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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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1.6 

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Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAINS  ;Rlf?'T 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniquas  et  bibliographiquas 


The  Institute  has  attemoted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


L'tnstitut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  iti  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-^tre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mithode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquAs  ci-dessous. 


□    Coloured  covers/ 
Couvertura  de  coulaur 


□    Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 


r~~|    Covers  damaged/ 


D 


Couverture  endommag<ie 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurie  et/ou  pe<licul6e 


□    Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagies 

□    Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaur^es  et/ou  pelliculdes 


□    Cover  title  missing/ 
Letil 


itre  de  couverture  manque 


0 


Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  d^color^es,  tachet^es  ou  piquees 


D 


Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  giographiques  en  couleur 


□Pages  detached/ 
Pages  ddtachees 


□    Coloured  ink  li.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleua  ou  noire) 


y 


Showthrough/ 
Transparence 


D 


Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 


□    Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Qualiti  inigale  de  {'impression 


/ 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
Relii  avec  d'autres  documents 


□    includes  supplementary  material/ 
C~mprend  du  matiriel  supplementaire 


I    Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 


E 


D 


La  re  liure  serree  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distorsion  le  long  de  la  marge  intdrieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajouties 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  Atait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  ixi  film^es. 


D 
D 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata.  une  pelure, 
etc.,  cnt  ^td  film^es  A  nouveau  de  facon  a 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


0 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppl^mentaires; 


Pagination  is  as  follows  :   [vii]  -  291  p. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  fiimA  au  taux  de  reduction  indiquA  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


26X 


3JX 


y 

12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thank* 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Douglas  Library 
Queen's  University 


L'exemplaire  film*  fut  reproduit  grAce  d  la 
gAn6rositA  de: 

Douglas  Library 
Queen's  University 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  Impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  e  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avic  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  at 
de  la  nettetA  de  l'exemplaire  f  ilm6,  et  eri 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
fllmage. 

Les  exempleires  originaux  dont  la  couvsrture  en 
papier  est  ImprimAe  sont  filmte  en  commen9ant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impresslon  ou  d'illustratlon,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exempleires   . 
originaux  sont  fiimis  en  commenpant  par  la 
premiire  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impresslon  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  derniire  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — •►(meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 

IVIaps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparattra  sur  la 
derniiire  imege  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbols  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 

''-■•  {'"  •.,.'■■ 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
film6s  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diff^rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  ciichi.  II  est  film6  A  partir 
de  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  heut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nicessaire.  Les  disgrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m6thode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

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SAM  SLIGK  IN  SEAECH  OF  A  WIFE. 


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'  '       '               ' 

BY   THE    AUTHOR    OF 

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*.'.-.» 


■  *;•'      '/r 


"SAM    SLICK   THE    CLOCK-MAKER," 
"old  judge,"  eto  , 


(.,'J.- 


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"Quicquid  agunt  homines,  votum,  timor,  ira,  voluptaB 
Gaudia" Juv. 

"  The  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man." — PopK. 


■^V'i-'^-'  ,vs,'-'- 


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NEW    YORK: 
STRINGER    &    TOWNSEND. 


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CONTENTS.  '      - 

INTRODUCTORY  LETTER    , Page  13 

i^     ^  .  CHAPTER  I.    -  •  ' 

QHAT  WITH  THE   PRESIDENT  20 

CHAPTER  II. 

STEALING  A  SPEECH    ; 30 

7^"  CHAPTER  III.     Il^ 

EVERT    THING    IN    GENERAL,    AND    NOTHING    IN    PARTI- 
CULAR   .M 37 

■        /  CHAPTER  it.     - 

THE  BLACK  HAWK  ;  OR,  LIFE  IN  A  FORE  AND  AFTER 48 

,         CHAPTER  V. 

OLD  BLOWHARD 60 

(ix) 


'^' 


\ 
X  CONTENTS.  ,  ,  .  » 

CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  widow's   son    : .'. .^     67 

'  CHAPTER  VII.  .  V  ,y    : 

THE  LANGUAGE  OF  MACKEREL  74 

.V,  CHAPTER  VIII. 

t 

THE   BEST  NATURED   MAN   IN   THE   WORLD 80 

'.It-  ■   '  ,  ^ 

CHAPTER  IX;  '         ' 

THE  BAIT   BOX 68 

'    CHAPTER  X. 

THE   water-glass;   or,    a   BAY-DREAM   OF   LIFE   Og 

CHAPTEP  XI. 

OLD    SARSAPARILLA   PILLS    100 

^-    CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   HOUSE   THAT   HOPE   BUILT    110 

•    CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  HOUSE  WITHOUT  HOPE  120 

CHAPTER  XIV.  :  r 

V' 

AN   OLD   FRIEND   WITH   A   NEW  FACE 132 


>..--■.    -;l,-T*lft?V 


CONTENTS.  XI     1 

■  ;,•  ■  '                  -..  ^' 
:;    CHAPTER  XV. 
CHAT  IN  A  CALM liiiz:^ t.!'!;; 140' 

CHAPTER  XVL  ,v 

THE   SABLE   ISLAND   GHOST 147 

CHAPTER  XVII/  '':%, 

THE  WITCH   OP  ESKISOONY 158 

''     .  CHAPTER  XVIIT." 

JEuiK'.,0  BEYOND   JORDAN    174 

-5p»-|t  CHAPTER  XIX.        g 

THREE  TRUTHS  FOR  ONE  LIE l88 

niUPTER  XX.  '    ;g' 

AUNT  THANKFUL   AND   HER   ROOM 208 

"  ^^        :    >;        CHAPTER  XXI. 

A   SINGLE   IDEA  213 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

AN   EXTENSIVE   PLAN   OF   REFORM 223 

^  CHAPTER  XXIIx. 

GOOSE  VAN  DAM 229 


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CONTBJriS.     . 


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^  HOT  DAY  ... 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


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CHAPTER  XXV 

OUB  COLONIES  AND  SAILORS 


251 


CHAPTER  XXVI       " 

A  PICNICK  AT  LA  DAIVE  .  '         ' 

••— 


263 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

A  NASBOW  ESCAPE '  ,,.:^^^-'*« 


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INTRODUCTORY  LETTER. 


I,  ■ 


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/^  'f''  '  •  SlMkviUe,  April,  185^ 

My  "Dear  Squjrb, 

Since  I  parted  with  you  I  have  led  a  sort  of  wanderin',  ramblin' 
life,  browsin'  here  to-day,  and  there  to-morrow,  amusin'  myself 
arter  my  old  way,  etudyin'  human  natur*,  gettin'  a  wrinkle  on  the 
horn  myself  for  some  that  I  give  others,  and  doin'  a  little  bit  of 
business  by  the  way  to  pay  charges,  and  cover  the  ribs  of  my  bank 
book ;  not  to  say  that  I  need  it  much  either,  for  habit  Las  more  to 
do  with  business  now  with  me  than  necessity.  The  bread  of  idle- 
ness in  a  gineral  way  is  apt  to  he  stale,  and  sometimes  I  consait  it 
is  a  little  grain  sour. 

Latterly  I  have  been  pretty  much  to  Slickville,  having  bought  the 
old  humstead  from  father's  heirs,  and  added  to  it  considerable  in 
buildin's  and  land,  and  begin  to  think  sometimes  of  marryin'.  The 
fact  is,  it  aint  easy  to  settle  down  arter  itineratin'  all  over  the  world 
so  many  yeafs  as  I  have  done  without  a  petticoat  critter  of  one's 
own  for  company }  but  before  I  ventur'  on  that  partnership  consam 
I  must  make  anoth<3r  tour  in  the  provinces,  for  atweea  you  and  me, 
I  reckon  they  raise  handsomer  and  stronger  ladies  than  we  do  in 
Connecticut,  although  we  do  crack  for  everlastiu'  about  beatin'  all 
the  world  in  our  "  geese,  galls,  and  onions." 

Oh  dear,  when  I  think  of  them  trips  I  had  with  you.  Squire,  ifc 
makes  me  ifeel  kind  of  good  all  over ;  but  there  will  be  amusement 
enough  left  for  another  tour,  you  may  depend.  Fun  has  no  limits. 
It  is  like  the  human  race  and  face ;  there  is  a  family  likeness  among 
all  the  species,  but  they  all  diflfer.  New  combinations  produce  new 
varieties.  Humour  puts  me  in  mind  of  the  kaleidoscope,  or  pattern- 
makers' box ;  give  it  a  shake  up,  and  there  is  a  new  figure  every 
time  —  that  is,  if  the  box  aint  empty.  If  it  is,  you  can  neither 
shake  anything  in  or  out  of  it,  as  many  a  schoolmaster  knows  to  his 
cost.  But  a  man  who  has  an  eye  for  fun  sees  it  in  everythin' — • 
verily,  even  the  demure  Quaker  catches  "'  1  enjoys  it. 

The  worst  of  it  is,  it  is  hard  to  remember  it  long ;  for  the  mind 
IS  like  a  slate — one  thing  gets  rub'd  out  for  another.  The  only  way 
is  to  enter  it  down  at  the  foot  of  the  da/s  work ;  so  I  guess  I  'U 
keep  a  journal,  and  send  it  to  you.  It  would  make  a  new  book  for 
you,  such  as  "  Wise  Saws  and  Modern  Instances,"  or  "  Sam  Slick 
in  Search  of  a  Wife,"  or  some  such  name. 

2  ^    •  *  a3) 


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14 


INTIlODUOTOllY    LETTER. 


r.^ 


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/ 


Thero  is  a  work  called  "  Tho  Horse,"  and  another  called  "  Tlwi 
Cow,"  and  "  Tho  Dog,"  and  so  on ;  why  should  n't  there  be  one 
on  *'  Tho  Galls  ?"  They  aro  about  tho  most  difficult  to  ohooso  and 
to  manage  of  any  created  critter,  and  yet  thero  aint  aty  dcpepdablo 
directions  about  pickin'  and  choosin'  of  them.  Is  it  any  wonder 
then  so  many  fellows  get  taken  in  when  they  go  for  to  swap  hearts^ 
with  them  ?  Besides,  any  one  can  find  a  gentleman  that  keeps  a 
livery-stable  to  get  him  a  hors^  to  order ;  but  who  can  say,  "  This 
is  the  gall  for  your  money  ?" 

No,  Sir,  it  is  a  business  that  must  bo  done  by  yourscff,  and  no 
one  else.  I  guess  this  will  be  the  last  of  my  rambles,  and  I  hope 
to  see  you  while  I  am  spyin'  into  the  wigwams  in  your  diggins.  I 
arast  say  I  feel  kinder  lonely  here  sometimes,  tho'  I  aint  an  idle 
man  nother,  and  can  turn  my  hand  to  anythin'  amost;  but  still 
there  is  days  when  there  is  nothin'  that  just  suits  to  go  at  to  fill  up 
the  gap,  and  them's  the  times  we  want  a  friend  and  companion.  I 
have  spent  some  wet  spells  and  everlastin'  long  winter  evenins  lately 
in  overhaulin'  my  papers  completin'  of  them,  and  finishin'  up  the 
reckonin'  of  many  a  pleasant,  and  some  considerable  boisterous  days 
passed  in  different  locations  since  we  last  parted.  I  have  an  idee 
you  would  like  to  see  them,  and  have  packed  them  all  up ;  and  if  I 
don't  meet  you,  I  guess  I'll  give  them  to  a  careful  hand  who  will 
deliver  them  safe  along  with  my  sayin's  and  doin's  on  this  trip. 

I  haven't  methodized  them  yet ;  thej  are  promiscuous,  like  my 
trunk.  When  I  put  my  hand  in  for  a  scjck,  in  a  general  way,  I  am 
as  like  to  pull  out  a  pair  of  stockins  as  not,  and  when  I  fish  for 
stockins,  I  am  pretty  sure  to  haul  up  a  pocket-handkercher.  Still 
they  are  all  there,  and  they  are  just  as  well  that  way  as  any  other, 
for  there  aint  what  you  call  a  connected  thread  to  them.  Some  of 
them  that's  wrote  out  fair  was  notched  down  at  the  time,  and  others 
are  related  from  memory.  I  am  most  afeard  sometime,  tho'  I  had'nt 
ought  to  be,  that  you  '11  think  there  is  a  bit  of  brag  here  and  there, 
and  now  and  then  a  bit  of  buncum,  and  that  some  things  are  made 
out  of  whole  cloth  altogether.  It's  nateral  for  others  to  think  so, 
Squire ;  and  who  cares  what  the  plague  they  do  think  ?  But  you 
ought  to  know  and  be  better  sartified,  I  reckon,  than  to  git  into  a 
wroLg  pew  that  way.  I  should  n.'t  wonder  a  morsel,  if  you  publish 
them,  that  folks  will  say  my  talk  and  correspondence  with  great 
statesmen  to  England  and  sich  big  bugs,  was  the  onlikeliest  thing  in 
the  world. 

Well,  so  it  is,  but  it  is  a  nateral  truth  for  all  that.  Facts  are 
stranger  than  fiction,  for  things  h;'  pen  sometimes  that  never  entered 
into  the  mind  of  man  to  iniagiho  or  invent.  You  know  what  my 
position  was  as  attacM  to  our  embassy  at  the  court  of  St.  James 
Victoria,  and  that  I  was  charge  when  embassador  went  to  Oxford 
and  made  that  splendiferous  speech  to  the  old  dons,  to  advise  them 


f 


INTRODUCTORY    LETTER, 


16 


to  turn  Unitarians,  and  made  a  tour  of  the  country  and  spoko  like  a 
ton-borBe  steam-engine  on  agriculture,  at  the  protection  dinners ;  and 
it  was  ginnerally  allowed  that  his  was  the  best  orations  on  the  sub- 
ject ever  heard,  tho'  it's  well  known  to  home  ho  couldn't  tell  a  field 
of  oats  from  a  field  of  peas,  nor  mangels  from  turnips,  if  ba  was  to 
be  stoned  to  death  with  the  old  Greek  books  at  tho  college,  and 
buried  under  the  entire  heap  of  rubbish.  And  you  know  that  I  was 
head  of  tho  Legation  also,  when  ho  was  absent  in  France  a-sowin' 
some  republican  seed,  which  don't  seem  to  suit  that  climate. 

I  told  him  afore  ho  went,  that  our  great  nation  was  tho  only  place 
in  the  world  where  it  would  ripen  and  bear  fruit.  Republics,  Squire, 
like  some  apples,  thrive  only  in  certain  places.  Now,  you  can't  eat 
a  Newtown  pippin  that's  raised  in  England,  and  blue-roses  have 
winter  fruit  to  Nova  Scotia  that  keeps  all  the  year  round,  that  svo 
can't  make  nothin'  of  at  llhode  Island.  Theory  and  practice  is  two 
different  things.  But  he  was  a  collegian,  and  they  know  more  about 
the  dead  than  the  livin',  a  plaguy  sight  j  but  that  is  neither  here 
nor  there. 

Well,  rank  is  no  obstacle  in  our  way,  tho'  it  would  be  in  yourn 
(for  we  claim  to  be  equal  with  the  proudest  peer  in  the  realm),  and 
then  ihe  book  you  published  under  my  name  did  the  rest  for  mo. 
It  is  no  wonder  then  I  was  on  those  terms  of  intimacy  with  the 
uppercrust  people  to  London  (;■  'd  bashfulness  rubs  off  in  America 
long  before  the  beard  comes ;  in  short,  wo  aint  much  troubled  with 
it  at  no  time,  that's  a  fact).  Now,  that  will  explain  matters  to  you. 
As  for  other  people,  if  they  get  on  a  wrong  track,  they  will  find  it 
out  when  they  reach  the  cend  of  it,  and  a  night  spent  in  the  woods 
will  cool  their  consait.  *  :  .' 

No,  I  wouldn't  sort  the  articles,  only  select  them.  Where  tho 
story  is  too  long,  clip  a  bit  off;  where  it  wants  point,  pass  it  over; 
but  whatever  you  do,  don't  add  to  them,  "for  I  am  responsible  and 
not  you ;  and  if  I  have  got  some  praise  in  my  time,  I  have  got  my 
share  of  abuse  too,  I  can  tell  you.  Sonichoio  or  another,  folks  can't 
hear  to  hear  the  truth  when  it  just  convenes  to  their  own  case ;  hut 
when  it  hits  their  neighhours,  oh!  then  there  is  no  cend  to  their 
cheerin',  pattin'  you  on  the  hack  and  stuhoj/in'  you  on. 

Father  was  very  fond  of  doggiu'  other  folks'  cattle  out  of  his  fields, 
but  when  neighbour  Dearborn  set  his  bull-terrier  on  ourn,  tho  old 
gentleman  got  quite  huffy,  and  said  it  was  very  disrespectful.  What 
old  Colonel  Crockett  said  to  me  was  the  rail  motto  for  an  author  as 
well  as  a  statesman  :  "  First  be  sure  you  are  right,  Sam,"  said  he, 
"  and  then  go  ahead  like  Statiee."  Them  that  you  don't  select  or 
approbate  put  carefully  away.  They  will  serve  to  recal  old  times  to 
my  mind,  and  I  must  say  I  like  to  think  of  tho  past  sometimes. 
Travellin'  is  always  pleasant  to  me,  because  I  take  the  world  as  I 
find   .      A  feller  who  goes  through  life  with  a  caveson  in  one  hand 


fk'-^l-: 


r.^fc'.r- 


• 


#: 


\ 


16 


INTRODUCTORY    LETTER. 


;'ll, 


I 


\ 


and  a  plaguy  long  whalebone  whip  in  the  other,  a  halter,  breakiu' 
of  every  sinner  he  meets,  gets  raon  hoists  f  m  thanks  in  a  gineral 
way,  I  can  tell  you.  My  rule  is  to  let  every  one  skin  his  own  foxes. 
It  aint  worth  while  to  be  ryled  if  you  can  help  it,  especially  at  things 
you  can't  alter  or  cure.  Grumblin'  and  groulin'  along  the  road, 
findin'  fault  with  this  and  scoldin'  at  that,  is  a  poor  way  to  travel. 
It  makes  a  toil  of  a  pleasure. 

Now,  an  Englishman  goes  through  the  journey  of  life  like  a  bear 
with  a  sore  head,  as  cross  as  Old  Scratch  himself.  The  roads  are 
bad,  the  bosses  bad,  the  inns  bad,  and  the  bill  extortionate.  He 
can't  eat  homemade  bread,  the  eggs  aint  poached  right,  the  ham  is 
hard,  and  he  hates  pork  as  bad  as  a  Jew.  The  veal  is  staggerin' 
bob,  and  the  mutton  rank  or  poor,  the  tea  is  nothin*  but  chopped  hay 
and  water ;  cotton  sheets,  tho'  they  be  white  and  clean,  are  only  fit 
for  summer  horse-cloths ;  he  can't  stand  a  taller  candle — the  smell 
pysins  him.  A  wood-fire  puts  his  eyes  but,  roasts  one  side  of  him 
while  the  other  is  raw  and  cold.  Even  the  galls  aint  pretty;  if  they 
blush  when  he  stares  at  them,  he  sais  it  is  a  bad  sign — they  know 
too  much;  and  if  they  don't,  he  sais  they  are  forrard  and  impedent; 
but  he  goes  right  off  into  a  fit  at  seein'  me  turn  an  egg  out  into  a 
wine-glass.  When  I  see  him  in  one  o'  them  are  tantrums,  a 
twitchin'  of  his  face  and  a  jerkin'  about  of  bis  limbs  arter  that 
fashion,  like  one  possessed  by  St.  Vitus'  dance,  I  call  for  my  horse, 
and  say  to  the  gentleman  that  keeps  the  inn,  "  Friend,"  says  I, 
"get  some  help,  and  hold  the  poor  misfortunate  stranger's  head, 
arms,  and  legs  down  so  he  can't  hurt  himself ;  clap  a  piece  of  wood 
across  his  mouth  to  keep  him  from  a-bitin'  of  his  tongue,  give  him 
a  large  dose  of  spirits  of  turpentine,  and  put  him  to  bed.  That's 
all  that  can  be  done  for  him,  for  he  is  incurable.  Good  mornin'," 
and  I  makes  tracks.  Such  a  critter  as  that  returns  home  commonly 
with  no  more  knowledge  and  manners  than  when  he  set  out.  The 
imagination  has  a  shadow  as  loell  as  the  hody^  that  keeps  just  a 
little  ahead  of  you,  or  follows  close  behind  your  heels,  it  don't  do  to 
let  it  frighten  you.  Blue-nose  is  nearly  as  bad  and  ugly  in  his  ways 
as  John  Bull. 

One  of  them  said  to  me  onct  down  to  Nova  Scotia : 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Slick,  aint  it  dreadful  journeyin'  here  in  the  spring. 
There  is  nothin'  but  veal,  veal,  veal  for  everlastinly  to  eat  here. — I 
am  actilly  starved  to  death." 

Sais  I,  "  Friend,  so  was  I  at  first ;  I  eat  of  so  many  calves  one 
spring,  I  was  actilly  ashamed  to  look  a  cow  in' the  face  for  six 
months ;  but  at  last  I  found  there  was  more  ways  of  dressin'  veal 
than  one,  and  more  things  to  be  had  to  eat  if  you  know'd  what  to 
ask  for.  Folks  always  give  me  the  best  they  have,  ?nd  when  that's 
the  case  I  always  say,  them  that  ain't  content  with  the  best  that  can 
be  got  had  better  go  without,  for  there  is  no  compulsion  in  it. 


• 


m^ 


■V-l, 


INTRODUCTORY    LETTER. 


."■ 


17 


Grumhlin*  spiles  the  relish  and  hurts  the  digestion.  Tell  you  what, 
friend.  The  bee,  though  he  finds  every  rose  has  a  thorn,  comes  hack 
loaded  with  honey  from  his  rambles;  and  why  shouldn't  other 
tourists  do  the  same  ?  That's  the  way  to  shorten  the  road,  lessen  the 
toil,  and  make  tmvellin'  pleasant." 

"  Cheap  talkin',  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  "  but  I  aint  used  to  it ;  and 
if  I  onct  reach  my  comfortable  home,  catch  me  leavin*  it  again  for 
such  an  outlandish  place  as  this.  I  am  half-frozen  to  death  with  the 
cold." 

"  Well,"  says  I,  (for  I  knew  more  of  him  than  he  dreamed  of,)  , 
"it  is  cold,  that's  a  fact;  and  it's  lucky  for  you,  you  have  a  com- 
fortable home— tho'  I  have  known  many  a  man's  house  made  too 
hot  for  him  sometimes  afore  now.  For  my  part,  I'de  as  leaf  travel 
as  stay  home  with  a  scoldin'  wife,  cryin'  children,  and  a  smoky 
chimney." 

If  you'd  a  seed  the  puzeled  look  he  gave  to  my  innocent  face, 
'twould  have  done  you  good.  It  was  as  much  as  to  say :  '*'  Con- 
found them  random  shots.  I  vow  you  hit  me  that  time  tho'  you 
didn't  take  aim."  Them's  the  sort  of  fellows  that  make  the  greatest 
fuss  at  hotels  always.  If  travellers  have  to  put  up  with  a  goodeal 
sometimes,  so  have  innJceepers  too,  that^s  a  fact. 

A  nigger  now  is  a  pattern  man.  He  sings  bits  of  songs,  or  plays 
on  the  Jew's-harp,  or  whistles  all  the  way,  throws  stones  at  the 
birds,  mocks  the  squirrel's  chirrupin'  out  of  fright  at  his  black  face ; 
and  when  the  little  dogs  rush  out  o'  the  houses  and  bark  at  him  as 
he  passes  along,  he  stops,  bow-wows  at  them,  and  chases  them  honie 
again,  and  then  roars  out  a  larfin'  till  the  woods  fairly  ring  with  his 
merry  yagh,  yagh,  yagh. 

At  night,  the  way  he  tucks  in  his  supper  is  a  caution  to  a  boa- 
constrictor,  for  it  would  give  him  the  dispepsy. 

Free  quarters  are  pleasant  things  for  them  who  hante  got  nothin' 
to  pay  with,  so  next  day  he  oversleeps  himself  on  purpose,  and 
instead  of  findin'  fault  with  his  accommodation,  finds  fault  with  his 
own  feet,  and  pretends  for  to  lirap,  and  the  children  won't  let  him 
go.  Afore  dinner,  says  he :  "  Missis  lend  me  the  axe,  please,  till  I 
chop  you  up  a  lovely  lot  of  fi'-o-wood,  and  split  enough  kindlin' 
stuff  to  heat  the  oven  for  a  week ;"  and  the  way  he  makes  chips  fly 
aint  no  matter.  .  .vv 

Then  he  turns  to  and  piles  it  up  in  the  porch  snug,  and  fetches 
in  a  great  big  back-log  the  chimney-place  will  hardly  hold — large 
enough  almost  for  an  ox  to  pull. 

"  Missis,  let  me  draw  you  a  bucket  of  water.     Dem  are  beautiful 

little  hands  o'  youm  h  too  soft  for  de  well-pole.     Come,  younc 

masters,  sposen  you  comes  along  wid  me  and  see  Juba  carry  a  fuU 

bucket  on  his  head  and  nebber  spill  a  drop,  tho'  poor  Juba's  fcefc 

2* 


■^: 


■-k       ■■"wr". 


I 


A  .-. 


18 


\  ' 


INTRODUCTORY    LETTER. 


r  t 


berry  tender  now  from  travellin'  on   dem  are  prepostilous  hard 
roads." 

I  guess  he  aint  asked  to  stay  another  day  and  aint  told  he  is  wel- 
come !  Oh !  of  course  not !  Then  he  has  been  a  great  traveller, 
havin'  onct  made  a  trip  to  Jamaica,  and  has  wonderful  stories  to 
tell  that  beat  British  officers'  tiger  hunts  all  to  rags.  The  cocoa- 
nuts  were  so  big  there,  he  was  obliged  to  wear  an  iron  skillit  on  his 
pate  for  fear  they  might  fall  from  the  trees  and  split  it  open  j  and 
one  day  the  monkeys  caught  him  asleep,  slipt  off  the  pot,  and  stole 
it  to  cook  their  victuals  in.  True  as  rates,  masters,  and  not  a  word 
of  regraggeration  in  it,  I  do  assure  you. 

That  was  the  boy  to  find  a  welcome.  The  youngsters  actilly  cried 
when  he  went  away,  gave  him  a  handful  of  cents,  and  walked  two 
miles  on  the  road  with  him  to  hear  his  stories  of  sharks  and  whales. 

There  is  another  advantage  of  this  temper,  that  even  niggers 
don't  know ;  you  can  larn  as  you  travel.  I  lamed  more  from  talk 
in  Loudon  than  ever  I  did  in  books  in  my  life,  and  noted  it  better. 
For  example — as  they  say  in  cypherin'  books— I  sit  alongside  of  a 
lamed  man  at  some  grand  dinner;  now  larncd  men  in  a  gineral 
way  are  all  as  stupid  as  owls,  they  keep  a  devil  of  a  thinkin',  but 
they  don't  talk.  So  I  stirs  up  old  Heroglyphic  with  a  long  pole; 
for  it's  after  dark  lights  is  lit,  and  it's  time  for  owls  to  wake  up  and 
gaze. 

"  I  have  been  tryin'  to  read  that  are  book  on  Ninevah,''  said  I. 
».     "  Oh  !"  sais  he,  "  what  do  you  thmk  of  it  ?" 

"  It  wants  the  pickaxe  and  crowbar,"  sais  I. 

"  Pickaxe  and  crowbar !"  sais  he,  for  that  made  him  turn  half 
round,  and  open  his  eyes  and  stare. 

Only  surprise  a  man.  Squire,  and  he  can't  help  listenin'. 

"  I  call  it  a  hard  case,"  said  I.  "  The  author  has  spent  amost 
a  mortal  long  time  in  diggin'  up  these  curiosities  that  have  been 
onder  ground  Lord  knows  how  many  centuries,  and  now  he  has  gone 
right  off,  and  buried  them  all  again  in  a  book,  as  hard  to  get  into  as 
the  old  vaults." 

"  Exactly,"  said  he ;  "  you  have  just  hit  it — very  well  expressed, 
and  very  graphically — that  is  the  principal  defect  in  the  book." 

"  P'raps,  Sir,"  said  I,  "  you  would  be  kind  enough  to  sumtotalise 
for  me  the  amount  of  his  discoveries  in  a  few  words  too,  for  I  won't 
bore  you,"  said  I. 

Well  in  ten  minutes  you  have  the  whole ;  and  if  you  want  an 
explanation,  he  is  just  the  boy  to  give  it.  It's  just  the  same  now 
in  a  log-hut.  The  settler,  poor  lonely,  honest,  simple  critter  haint 
no  book  larniu',  but  he  is  acquainted  with  some  things  you  aint, 
that's  a  fact.  I  never  met  a  man  yet  that  couldn't  give  me  a  wrinkle, 
from  a  captain  of  one  of  our  men-of-war  in  the  Mediterranean,  that 
I  heard  tell  Lady  B the  way  to  peel  onions  without  tinglin'  her 


INTRODUCTORY    LETTER. 


to 


eyes,  was  to  hold  a  pin  between  her  teeth,  down  to  Sinful  Joy  the 
nigger  at  the  three  mile  plains,  who  gave  me  the  wonderful  cure  for 
jaundice  I  boast  so  much  of. 

At  every  turn  there  is  soraethin'  to  observe  and  remember,  which, 
old  tho'  it  be,  is  new  to  you — some  impliment,  some  machine,  some 
strange  culture  of  curious  plants,  and  things  put  to  uses  you  never 
dreamed  of,  is  turnin'  up  all  the  time.  It  was  in  Persia  I  larned  the 
art  of  stupifyin'  fish,  and  makin'  them  float  on  the  surface,  without 
hurtin'  them,  for  food  j  and  the  first  chance  I  get,  I  will  try  it  in  the 
mackerel  fishary.  It  was  at  a  Quaker's  in  Genesee  I  first  met  with 
the  little  windmill  for  sawing  my  fire-wood  I  have  to  Slickville,  and 
in  South  America  I  larned  to  pysen  an  arrow  that  killed  deer  in- 
stantly without  alFcctin'  the  venison,  and  in  France  the  way  to  hatch 
fish-spawn,  and  on  the  Ehono  the  wonderful,  but  simple  and  cheap 
plan  of  the  Romans,  of  buildin'  houses  of  loam  superior  to  bricks. 
It  was  by  travellin'  I  picked  up  that  valuable  collection  of  receipts  I 
showed  you  onct. 

But  the  greatest  advantage  of  all  of  this  itineration  is,  you  can 
look  back  with  pleasure  on  travel.  You  forget  the  little  ups  and 
downs,  and  crosses  and  losses,  and  bumps  and  thumps,  and  brambles 
and  scrambles  by  the  way ;  but  memory  has  it  all  sketched  out  in 
landscapes  like,  rail  handsome  for  you,  that  imagination  has  helped 
to  put  in  gilt  frames.  And  tho'  the  forrest  in  them  paintins  contains 
rocks,  underbrush,  and  boggy  spots,  where  you  slumped  about,  broke 
down,  or  lost  your  way,  you  see  nothin'  in  the  background  but  a 
mass  of  wavin'  wood,  or  in  the  foreground  but  green  fields,  windin' 
roads,  and  smooth  rivers.     Time  has  mellowed  the  pictur'. 

Yes,  I  can  and  do  often  stop  short,  turn  round,  shade  the  sun  off 
my  eyes  with  my  hands,  and  look  back  at  my  travels  over  this 
uncvarsel  world  with  pleasure.  But  if  it  was  all  barren,  all  dark, . 
all  hardship,  and  all  privation,  as  some  grumblin'  fools  find  it,  what 
in  natur'  would  life  be  ?  Why,  it  wouldn't  be  endurable  j  it  'ed 
give  pain,  and  not  pleasure.  You'd  be  afraid  to  look  back,  because 
it  would  awaken  onpleusant  recollections,  and  you'd  be  skeer'd  to 
look  forred;  for  if  the  world  don't  please  you  when  young,  it  can't, 
in  the  natur'  of  things,  when  you  are  old,  that's  a  fact.  That's  my 
philosophy,  at  least,  and  so  it  is  Black  Juba's  also. 

My  plan  is  this.  I  seek  the  simny  side  of  life  alwai/s,  unless  the 
iceathcr  is  too  Jiot,  and  then  I  go  to  the  shade.  The  changes  in  the 
temperature  make  me  enjoy  both. 

And  now,  havin'  written  this  epistle,  I  shall  turn  round  to  the 
fire,  light  my  cigar,  put  my  feet  up  on  the  mantel-piece,  and  enjoy  a 
smoke,  and  think  of  old  times.  ,  Hoping  to  hear  soon  from  you, 

I  remain,  dear  Sir,  .'; 

>  ,  Your  faithful  friend,  •'"' 

Sam  Slick.    ' 


\ 


m 


'Iv 


/If 


*ii^ 


m 


f'i 


r 


;•  ,1 


'.'I 


/    WISE    SAWS: 

-  .  -    .  _•■-■• 

i 

SAM  SLICK  IN  SEARCH  OF  A  VIFE. 


f 


CHAPTER   I. 

crfAT  WITH  THE  PRESIDENT.  l- 

Before  leaving  the  States  for  the  lower  provinces,  I  went  up  to 
Washington,  to  meet  some  old  friends  assembled  there,  that  I  had 
known  to  England,  as  well  as  to  see  the  President,  who  wanted  me 
to  accept  the  office  of  a  commissioner,  and  to  report  privately  to  him 
on  the  fisheries  on  the  shores  of  Nova  Scotia,  New  Brunswick,  and 
Prince  Edward  Island.  I  dined  quietly  with  him  one  day,  a  dis- 
cussing the  latter  subject,  and  its  importance  to  our  coasting  and 
interior  trade,  when  he  pressed  the  office  on  rae  in  rael  aernest. 

"We  don*t  work  for  nothin'  you  know,  Mr.  Slick,''  sais  he, 
"  things  aint  fixed  up  right,  when  you  only  find  paper,  quills,  and 
tape,  there  must  be  somethin'  to  keep  the  pen  agoin,  besides  fingers 
and  ink.  You  will  be  paid  liberally,  as  it  becomes  our  great  nation, 
for  your  services;  and  what  do  you  say  to  my  placin'  a  naval  schooner 
at  your  disposal  to  make  your  tour  in,  and  to  protect  our  fishermen  ? 
Wouldn't  that  more  comport  with  dignity,  and  be  goin'  the  whole 
figure,  and  doin'  the  thing  genteel?" 

"  Thank  you.  Sir,"  sais  I,  "  a  national  vessel  would  spile  all,  it 
would  make  folks  scary  about  talkin'  to  me ;  and  as  our  citizens  are 
breakin'  the  treaty  all  the  time,  we  mustn't  sanction  it  like,  opemy 
and  officially,  but  just  wink  at  it,  and  pass  on,  as  if  we  didn't  see  it 
or  know  it.  None  are  so  blind  as  those  that  won't  see,  and  nothin' 
is  so  easy  as  to  hood-wink  them  that's  too  inquisitive.  Oh,  dear ! 
how  oftfcn.  President,  I  have  larfed  ready  to  die,  at  the  way  I  made 
a  custom-house  officer  at  Bangor  wink.     I  smuggled  —  no,  I  won't 

(20) 


# 


^«i'*^. 


CHAT    WITH    THE    PRESIDENT. 


.Vi 


21 


say  that,  for  I'd  scorn  to  smuggle,  it's  a  low  thing  —  but  I  imported 
several  times  British  goods  to  that  city  from  Nova  Scotia,  but  forgot 
to  enter  them  regular;  and  when  Bigelow  Pineo,  the  oflSicer,  came  to 
search  (a  very  pious,  consciencious  man  he  was,  too,  an  elder  among 
the  elect,  and  an  awful  largo  seven-foot  down-easter ;  they  u?ed  to 
call  him  Big  Pineo),  '  Brother  Pineo,'  sais  I,  '  verily  I'm  glad  to  seo 
you ;  how  is  the  good  lady  to  hum,  and  the  little  Bigs,  eh  ?  None 
of  'em,  I  guess,  will  ever  make  the  man  their  father  is,  as  Widow 
Atwater  said  to  me,  when  she  first  sot  eyes  on  you :  Laws  me,  Mr. 
Slick,  who  is  that  noble-lookin'  man  ?  he  is  the  handsomest  I  ever 
saw  in  all  my  born  days.     My !  what  a  fine  man !'  " 

"  *  Friend  Slick,'  he  would  say,  with  an  inward  chuckle,  like  a 
half-grunt,  and  a  half-cough  (Christian  men  never  larf ),  '  thee  aint 
improved,  I  see,  by  being  among  the  heathen  colonists,  that  live 
away  down  where  the  sun  riseth.  What  in  natur*  hast  thee  got  in 
all  these  trunks  ?'  ,      ,  < 

"  Smuggled  goods,'  sais  I,  ^  of  course/ 

" '  Oh  yes !'  sais  he ;  *  and  if  they  were,  thee  wouldst  fetch  them 
here  to  be  seized,  of  course  I     How  soft  thee  is  !' 

"  And  then  he  gave  another  chuckle  at  that  bright  idea  of  hisn, 
that  made  his  chest  heave  again.  '  But,'  sais  I,  *  look  for  yourself, 
brother,  and  sarch  well.  Here's  my  spectacles,'  and  I  took  out  a 
pair  of  tortoise-shell  ones,  that  had  the  glasses  slipt  out,  and  two 
gold  eagles  slipt  in.' 

"  '  What  in  the  world  are  these  ?'  sais  he. 

"  ^  Magnifiers,'  sais  I.  '  Put  them  on,  and  nothin'  will  escape 
you;  and  if  you  can't  see  through  them  at  first,  practice  will  soon 
make  you  parfect.  Accept  'em  for  my  sake,  for  they  are  curiosities, 
that's  a  fact.  The  benighted  colonists  wear  them,  when  the  sun 
shines,  to  keep  it  from  hurtin'  their  eyes.  But  come,  that's  a  good 
man,  put  the  chalk  mark  on  my  traps  right  ofi^,  for  I  want  to  be  a 
movin'.' 

"  Well,  he  put  the  spectacles  in  his  pocket ;  and  as  he  stooped 
down  to  chalk  the  trunks,  sais  he :  *  Verily  thee  is  difierent  from 
other  men,  in  all  thee  ..  jeth ;  seein'  I  can  take  no  fees,  thee  hast 
adopted  this  mode  to  obviate  a  hard  law.  If  these  trunks  contained 
smuggled  goods,  of  a  sartaint^'  thee  wouldst  not  fetch  them  here,  so 
I  will  mark  them.' 

"  No,  President,  we  must  wink,  or  put  on  solid  gold  spectacles, 
like  Bigelow  Pineo,  and  look  without  seein'.  I  would  prefer  going 
down  in  one  of  our  coastin'  vessels,  careless-like,  slippin'  into  this 
harbour,  and  dodgin'  into  that,  and  while  the  captain  is  tradin'  here 
and  tradin'  there  pick  up  all  the  information  I  want.  If  we  had 
them  fisheries,  they  would  be  worth  more  to  us  than  California." 

"  I  think  so  too,"  sais  he.  "  I  had  no  idea  of  their  immense  ex- 
tent until  lately.    I  actilly  saw  a  barrel  of  Nova  Scotia  mackerel 


m 


\ 


\ 


111 

11 


111 


■: 


22 


CHAT    WITH    THE    PRESIDENT. 


H 


the  other  day,  with  tho  Halifax  brand  on  it,  away  up  to  the  Rocky 
Mountain.  Fact,  I  assure  you.  However,  consider  yourself  on  pay 
from  this  time,  six  dollars  per  day  for  wages,  and  six  dollars  more 
for  truvcllin'  expenses ;  and  if  you  have  to  charter  a  vessel,  draw  for 
the  amount.'' 

"  l^resident/'  sais  I,  "  that's  what  I  call  handsum  now.  But  as  I 
shall  be  gone  for  a  considerable  spell,  for  I  want  a  trip  of  pleasure 
as  well  as  business,  I  will  take  care  there  is  no  extra  charge."    v^.  'i' 

"  Well,  Uncle  Sam,  Sir,''  sais  he,  "  is  able  and  willin'  to  pay  for 
all ;  and  your  report  will  carry  great  weight  with  it,  for  it  is  well 
known  you  have  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  in  the  provinces,  and 
know  the  people  better  than  any  of  our  citizens  do.  To-morrow  you 
"will  receive  your  commission,  and  letters  accreditin'  you  to  our  con- 
suls, and  to  the  governors  of  the  different  colonies." 

When  this  affair  was  settled,  sais  he,  "Mr.  Slick,  did  you  know 
Lord  Horton,  him  that's  Lord  Aylsford  now,  when  you  was  to  Eng- 
land?" 

"  Knowed  him  well,"  sais  I. 

"  Is  he  as  smart  a  man  as  folks  say  ?" 

"Gruess  he  is  all  that,  and  more  too,"  sais  I,  "he  is  a  whole  team 
and  a  horse  to  spare  —  that  man.  He  was  among  the  last  persons  I 
visited  when  I  was  leavin'  the  embassy ;  the  last  man  I  heard  speak 
in  the  Commons,  and  the  last  I  supped  with  to  London.  A  night 
or  two  afore  I  left  town,  I  Avcnt  down  to  the  House  of  Commons. 
I  don't  often  go  there.  It's  stupid  work,  and  more  than  half  the 
time  routine  business,  while  the  other  half  of  it  is  a  re-hash  of  old 
speeches.  Twice  laid  dishes  I  can  stand,  salt  fish  and  corn  beef 
twice  laid  I  sometimes  consait  is  as  good  as  when  first  cooked ;  but 
old  speeches  served  over  and  over  again  go  again  the  appetite. 
However,  having  nothin'  above  common  to  do,  and  hearin'  there 
was  to  be  a  bit  of  a  flare-up,  down  I  goes,  and  who  should  be 
speakin'  but  Horton,  him  they  now  call  Aylsford.  What  the 
plague  they  change  the  name  for  that  way,  I  don't  know.  If  they 
want  to  promote  a  man  to  a  higher  degree,  such  as  baron  (and  Lord 
knows  some  of  their  heads  are  barren  enough)  to  be  an  earl,  and  an 
earl  to  be  a  marquis,  and  so  on,  well  and  good — but  the  name  ought 
to  be  kept,  for  the  change  only  bothers  folks. 

"Who  in  the  world  would  suppose  now  that  Lord  Dundonald  was 
the  same  man  as  the  great  Lord  Cochran — the  greatest  naval  hero, 
next  to  Nelson,  England  ever  had.  It's  an  actual  fact,  I  knew  him 
a  whole  year  afore  I  found  it  out,  and  only  then  by  accident;  for, 
like  all  brave  men,  he  never  talks  of  his  everlastin'  battles.  But 
this  is  neither  here  nor  there;  the  English  have  a  way  of  their  own, 
and  it  is  no  use  talkin'  to  them,  obstinate  they  are,  and  obstinate 
they  will  be  to  the  eend  of  the  chapter." 

*'  Exactly,"  said  the  President,  "  that's  my  idea  to  a  T,  when  Lord 


#:' 


-  ■:'"■ 


>/ 


CHATWITH     THE    PRESIDENT, 


25 


JAmphlitt  was  out  here  seme  years  ago,  I  knowed  him.  Gineral 
llchabod  Shegog  came  to  mo  one  day,  and  sais  he,  '  There's  an  Eng- 
[lish  lord  to  the  Treciaont ;  would  you  like  to  go  and  have  a  look  at 
Ihimr 

"'Well,  I  would,'  saia  I,  'that  is  a  fact,  for  I  never  see  one  in 
my  life ;  but  how  shall  we  rig  up  ?' 

(( ( Why,'  sais  he,  '  I  guess  I'll  go  in  a  general's  uniform,  and  you 
had  better  go  full  fig  as  a  grand  master  mason,  for  the  dress  is 
splendid.' 

"And  we  did  so;  the  lord  was  gracious  and  affable,  and  a  con- 
siderable smart  man,  I  tell  you.  He  seemed  a  good  deal  struck  with 
our  appearance,  and  I  thought  he  felt  a  little  mean,  seein'  that  he 
warnt  dressed  for  company,  for  he  had  nothin'  on  but  a  common 
frock  coat,  plaid  trowsers,  and  buff  waistcoat,  coloured  neckcloth, 
and  great  thick-soled  shoes,  and  short  gaiters.  I  guess  he  had  to  sail 
pretty  close  to  the  wind,  for  they  do  tell  me  the  nobility  are  all  over 
head  and  ears  in  debt  to  England.  Heavens  and  airth  how  the  Gin- 
eral raved  when  he  came  out. 

" '  What,'  sais  he,  '  that  little  fellow  a  lord  ?  have  they  no  better 
timber  to  Britain  to  make  one  out  of  than  that  ondersized  half-starved 
looking  critter  ?  Well  I  vow  I  never  want  to  see  another  lord,  'til  I 
see  the  Lord  Jehovah.' 

"But  Shegog  warnt  much  of  a  man  of  the  world,  and,  what's 
wuss,  he  is  so  chock  full  of  consait,  he  never  will  be.  The  lord  was 
short,  there-'s  no  doubt  of  that,  but  he  could  not  help  it,  for  he  would 
have  growed  more,  I  do  suppose,  if  he  could.  Lord  Amphlitt  was 
not  a  bad  name  for  the  poor  critter — was  it  ?  a  small  book  is  called 
a  pamphlet,  and  he  was  one-eighth  smaller  than  that ;  but  a  small 
house,  after  all,  well  filled,  is  better  than  an  emptjf  palace. 

"  Now  who  the  plague  would  have  guessed  that  that  Lord  Am- 
phlitt is  the  same  as  Lord  Scilly  ?  If  it  warnt  for  the  Scilly  Light 
on  the  chart,  I  should  never  recollect  his  name,  'til  the  end  of  time 
ran  out.     But  go  on." 

"  Well,  as  I  was  sayin',  Horton  had  the  floor,  and  if  he  didn't 
talk  it  into  'em,  it's  a  pity.  He's  a  pretty  speaker,  the  best  I've 
heard  in  England  by  a  long  chalk,  and  the  best  proof  that  what  he 
said  hit  hard,  was  you  might  have  heard  a  pin  fall.  It's  a  different 
kind  of  speakin'  from  what  our  great  guns  use,  and  I  aint  quite  sure 
I  don't  like  it  better.  There  is  less  oration  and  more  business  in  it, 
it's  all  to  the  point,  or  good  guards  and  blows  well  planted.  He  was 
at  a  rival  lord,  and  he  sartainly  did  make  the  little  man  look  small 
enough,  you  may  depend. 

"  Weil,  the  next  day,  we  had  a  grand  dinner  at  the  embassador's. 
Diplomatists,  statesmen,  and  the  gracious  knows  who  all  were  there. 
Well,  among  them  was  Lord  Horton ;  but  I  couldn't  get  a  chat  witlr 


*^ 


■f: 


:^ 


^■'. 


.(II 


i^ 


•v^- 


24 


CHAT   WITH    THE    PRESIDENT. 


him  theO;  for  dinner  was  served  as  soon  as  he  arrived,  but  I  managed 
it  in  the  evenin'. 

"  Lord  Dunk  Peterborough,  or  some  such  name,  sat  alongside  of 
me,  and  took  to  praisin'  our  great  nation  at  a  great  pace.  It  fairly 
took  me  in  at  first,  I  didn't  see  his  drift ;  it  was  to  draw  me  out,  and 
set  me  a  boastin'  and  a  braggin'  I  do  suppose.  And  I  fell  into  the 
trap  before  I  knowed  it.  ^  .^i' 

"  Arter  trottin'  me  round  a  bit,  sais  he,  *  Your  minister  is  a  worthy 
representative  of  your  glorious  country.  He  is  a  scholar  and  a 
gentleman.  One  of  his  predecessors  did  nothing  but  compare.  If 
you  showed  him  a  pack  of  hounds,  they  were  nothing  to  what  hun- 
dreds had  in  Virginia  and  the  southern  States.    If  a  fine  tree,  it 

•  was  a  mere  walking  stick  to  an  American  one.  If  a  winning  race- 
horse, he  had  half  a  dozen  that  would,  as  he  expressed  it,  walk  away 
from  him  like  nothing;  and  so  on.  ''^ell,  there  was  another  who 
could  talk  of  nothing  but  satinettes,  coarse  cotton,  the  slave  trade, 
and  what  he  used  to  call  New  England  domestics.  It  is  refreshing 
to  find  your  nation  so  well  represented.' 

"  All  this  was  said  as  civil  as  you  please,  you  could  not  fault  his 
manner  a  bit ;  stiU  I  can't  say  I  quite  liked  it.  I  knew  there  was 
some  truth  in  it;  but  how  little  or  how  much  I  couldn't  tell,  not 
'  bein'  much  of  a  scholar.  Thinks  I  to  myself,  I'm  a  man  more  used 
to  givin'  than  takin'  pokes,  anu  never  could  keep  'em  long  without 
returnin'  them  with  interest.  So  go  on,  I'll  see  what  you  are  about, 
''*  and  then  I  rather  guess  I  can  take  my  part  with  you. 

"  Sais  he,  *  I'm  told  his  Latin  is  very  pure.' 

" '  It's  generally  allowed  there  can't  be  no  better,'  sais  I,  *  there 
is  nobody  to  Cambridge  —  our  Cambridge  I  mean  —  that  can  hold  a 
candle  to  him.' 

"'It's  fully  equal,'  sais  he,  'to  the  generality  of  the  monastic 
Latin  of  the  middle  ages.' 

"I  was  adrift  here:  I  didn't  like  the  expression  of  his  eye^ — it 

*  looked  quizzical ;  and  I  must  say,  when  lamed  subjects  come  on  the 
carpet,  I  do  feel  a  little  grain  streaked,  for  fear  I  shall  have  to  con- 
fess ignorance,  or  have  to  talk  and  make  a  fool  of  myself.  Thinks 
I  to  myself,  if  his  Latin  is  good,  why  didn't  he  say  it  was  as  good 
as  what  the  Latins  spoke  or  wrote,  and  not  stop  half-way  at  what 
Minister  used,  I  am  sure,  to  call  the  dark  ages  ?  However,  I'll  look 
quizzical  too,  and  put  my  best  foot  out. 

"  *  As  good  as  that  of  the  middle  ages  ?'  sais  I;  'why,  that's  not 
sayin'  much  for  it  either.  Aint  he  a  middle-aged  man  himself?  and 
hasn't  he  been  at  it  all  his  life  ?' 

" '  Well,  Slick,'  sais  he,  '  that's  uncommon  good ;  that's  one  of 
the  best  tlangs  I  have  heard  for  a  long  time,  and  said  so  innocently 
too,  as  if  you  really  meant  it.  Capital,  by  Jove  I  Come,  I  like 
that  amazingly.' 


CHA1?    WITH    THE    PRESIDENT. 


j^s 


"Think's  I  to  myself,  it's  more  than  I  do,  then;  for  I  didn't 
understand  you,  and  I  don't  know  the  meanin'  of  what  I  said  myself. 
But  I'll  pay  you  off  bimeby,  Master  Dunk — sec  if  I  don't. 

"  Sais  he,  lowerin'  his  voice,  confidential-like,  '  what  a  pity  it  is 
that  he  is  a  Unitarian  !* 

"  Now,  thinks  I,  my  boy,  I've  got  you  off  dead  languages  in  upon 
Uvin'  subjects,  I'll  play  with  you  as  a  cat  does  with  a  mouse. 

" '  He  wouldn't  be  an  honest  man,  if  he  warn't/  sais  I;  '  he'd  be 
beneath  contempt.' 

" '  Well,'  sais  he,  '  I  never  argue  about  religion,  and  will  there- 
fore not  pursue  the  subject  farther;  but  it  creates  a  great  prejudice 
here.' 

"  '  Religion,'  sais  I,  '  my  good  friend,'  lookin'  all  amazed,  '  why, 
what  in  natur'  has  religion  to  do  with  it  ?  It  has  neither  art  nor 
part  in  it.'  : . 

" '  Exactly,'  said  he,  '  that's  the  very  point.  People  hero  think  a 
Unitarian  little  better  than  an  infidel.'   - 

"  '  Then  you  might,'  sais  I,  'just  as  well  say  a  Tory  was  an  infidel, 
or  a  Whig,  or  a  Protectionist,  or  a  Free  Trader,  or  anybody  else ; 
there  would  be  just  as  much  sense  in  it.  I  believe  in  my  heart  the 
English  will  never  understand  us.' 

" '  Pray,  may  I  ask,'  said  he,  'what  you  call  a  Unitarian  ?' 

"  '  Sartainly,'  sais  I ;  'for  when  folks  go  to  argue,  they  ought  first 
to  know  what  they  are  talkin'  about;  to  define  their  terms,  and  see 
they  understand  each  other.  I  '11  tell  you  in  a  few  words  what  a 
Unitarian  is.' 

"  Just  then.  Minister  speaks  up,  (and  it's  a  curious  thing,  talk  of 
the  devil,  and  he  is  sure  to  heave  in  sight  directly),  '  Pass  the  wine, 
Mr.  Slick,  I'll  help  myself.'  '  And  push  it  on,  your  Excellency,' 
sais  I;  'but  I  never  pass  wine  —  it  ain't  considered  lucky  in  Slick- 
ville.'  This  made  a  laugh  and  a  divarsion,  and  I  continues :  '  You 
see,  my  Lord,  our  general  Government  is  a  federal  one,  exercisin' 
sartain  powers  delegated  to  it  by  the  separate  States,  wlnich,  with 
this  exception,  are  independent  sovereignties.  Every  State  is  a  unit, 
and  those  units  form  a  whole ;  but  the  rights  of  the  separate  States 
are  as  sacred  as  the  rights  of  the  Government  to  Washington ;  and 
good  patriots  everywhere  stand  by  their  own  units,  and  are  called 
Unitarians;  while  some  are  for  strengthenin'  the  general  Govern- 
ment, at  the  expense  of  the  individual  sovereignty,  and  these  are 
called  Federalists;  and  that's  the  long  and  the  short  of  the  matter. 
And  what  on  airth  religion  has  to  do  with  these  nicknames,  I  don't 
know.' 

"  Sais  he,  '  I  nover  knew  that  before ;  I  thought  Unitarians  were 
a  religious  sect,  being  another  name  for  Socinians,  and  I  am  very 
glad  to  hear  this  explanation,' 


#••" 
V*-. 


'^1 

si 

■i 


'.%:.■ 


■iS. 


!  t  ' 


ulfl  ii 


1^ 


26 


on  AT    WITH     TDK     PRESIDENT. 


"  Thinks  I,  I  hopo  it  will  do  you  good ;  it  is  as  good  as  a  middle- 
age  Latin,  at  any  rate. 

"  After  Bomo  further  talk,  sais  he,  '  Your  JMinister  is  not  a  very 
easy  man  to  got  uciiuaintud  with.  Is  ho  a  fair  specimen  of  the  New 
Englanders  ?  for  he  is  very  cold.' 

"  Hero's  at  you  again,  blaster  Lord  Dunk,  sais  I;  you  ain't  quite 
sold  yet,  though  you  aro  bespoke — that's  a  fact.  '  Well,'  sais  I,  '  he 
is  cold,  but  that's  his  misfortune,  and  not  his  fault :  it's  a  wonder  to 
me  he  aint  dead  long  ago.  He  will  never  be  quite  thawed  out.  The 
chill  went  into  his  marrow.' 

"  '  What  chill  ?'  sais  he ;  *  is  not  that  his  natural  manner  ?' 

" '  How  can  you  ask  such  a  qufestion  as  that,  my  Lord  ?'  sais  L 
'  When  he  left  College  as  a  young  man,  ho  entered  into  the  ice  trade 
to  supply  New  Orlcens  with  ice,  and  a  grand  spec  ho  made  of  it  j 
but  it  near  upon  cost  him  his  life.  He  was  a  great  hand  to  drive 
business,  and  if  you  want  to  drive  business  with  us,  you  must  work 
yourself.  He  was  at  the  ice  lake  day  and  night  amost,  a  handlin' 
of  it ;  and  the  last  vessel  he  loaded  that  year  he  went  in  her  him- 
self. His  berth  was  near  the  companion-ladder,  the  best  berth  in 
the  ship,  but  it  jines  on  to  the  hold,  and  the  chill  of  that  ice  cargo, 
especially  when  he  got  into  the  hot  climate  of  New  Orleens,  so  pene- 
trated his  jints,  and  limbs,  and  marrow,  he  has  never  been  warm 
since,  and  never  will ;  he  tells  me  it's  extendin'  upwards,  and  he  is 
afeard  of  his  heart.' 

"  Well,  he  roared  right  out ;  he  haw-hawed  as  loud  as  a  man 
cleverly  and  politely  can  at  a  gentleman's  table,  and  says  he,  '  That's 
the  best  contrived  story  to  excuse  a  cold  manner  I  ever  heard  in  my 
life.     It's  capital,  upon  my  word  !* 

" '  So  it  was,  Slick,'  said  the  President ;  '  it  was  well  done.  That 
was  a  first-rate  bam  !  But  I  must  say,  some  of  the  New-England 
strait-laced  folks  are  mortal  cold  —  that's  a  fact,  and  the  worst  of  it 
is,  it  ain't  intermittent;  they  are  iced  down  e'en  amost  to  the  freez- 
in' -point,  and  the  glass  always  stands  there.  The  ague  is  nothin' 
. vto  it,  for  that  has  its  warm  fits  j  but  some  of  them  folks  have  the 
cold  fit  always,  like  Ambassador.  No  wonder  the  Puritans  tolerated 
wine,  rum,  gin,  brandy,  and  all  that,  and  forbade  kissin' ;  it  was,  I 
suppose,  to 

"  '  Compound  for  sins  they  were  inclined  to, 
By  damning  those  they  had  no  mind  to.' 

My  niece  to  Charlestown  told  me,  that  when  her  father's  brothcif 
came  from  New  Bedford,  and  kissed  her,  he  was  so  cold  it  actilly 
gave  her  the  toothache  for  a  week  —  fact,  I  do  assure  jou,  Slick ; 
folks  may  say  what  they  like,  a  cold  manna'  never  covered  a  warm 
heart;  hot  water  imparts  a  glow  even  to  a  silver  teapot;  but  go  on, 
I  beg  pardon  for  interrupting  of  you.' 


/>» 


\\v   V 


CHAT    WITH    THE    rREBIDENT. 


27 


as  a  man 


" '  There  arc  stranger  things,  Lord  Dunk/  sais  I,  '  in  real  life  than 
in  fiction;  but  an  J]nglishraan  won't  believe  in  any  thin'  that  aint 
bucked  by  a  bet.  Now  I'll  tell  you  a  story  will  astonish  your  weak 
nerves,  of  a  mueh  stronger  case  than  the  Ambassador's  chill,  and 
I'll  stake  a  hundred  dollars  on  its  truth  with  you.  You've  heard 
of  General  Montgomery,'  sais  I,  'haven't  you,  and  his  attack  on 
Quebec  ?' 

" '  I  cannot  say  I  have/  ho  said.     '  I  think  there  was  a  French- 
man of  the  name  of  Montcalm,  who  distinguished  himself  at  Que-  . 
bcc ;  but  iMontgomery — Montgomery,  no,  I  never  heard  of  him.' 

" '  The  fact  is,  the  ^ii^nglish  got  such  a  tarnal  lickin'  in  the  revo- 
lutionary war,  they  try  to  get  rid  of  the  subject  by  sayin'  it  was  a 
little  provincial  affair,  and  pretend  to  know  nothin'  about  it.  Well, 
Montgomery  attacked  it  in  winter,  and  pretty  nearly  carried  it  under 
cover  of  a  snow-storm  j  but  the  garrison  was  prepared  for  him,  and 
tliough  it  was  awful  cold  weather,  gave  him  such  a  warm  reception, 
that  he  was  about  to  retire,  when  he  and  his  two  aidecamps  were 
killed  at  one  shot.  He  left  a  good  many  poor  fellows  behind  him 
killed,  wounded,  and  prisoners.  Among  them  that  was  nearly  froze 
to  death,  in  fact  ho  never  was  the  same  man  afterwards,  was  General 
Peep  —  he  was  then  Colonel  Peep,  and  served  as  a  volunteer.  Ho 
was  nearly  stiff  when  they  hauled  him  in,  and  then  they  thrust  him 
into  a  cold  stone-room,  without  a  fire,  and  arterwards  sent  him  to 
England,  where  he  remained  till  the  peace.  That  winter  campaign 
nearly  fixed  his  flint  for  him.  Talk  of  Ambassador's  chill,  bad  as 
it  is,  it  is  nothin'  to  his.  One  of  his  legs  never  had  any  more  feelin' 
in  it  arterwards.     He  used  to  keep  a  tavern  down  to  Slickville.' 

" '  What !  a  General  keep  a  tavern,'  said  he,  and  he  opened  his 
eyes  wide,  and  wrinkled  the  hair  of  his  head  with  astonishment. 

" '  To  be  sure,'  said  I,  ^  why  not  as  well  as  any  other  citizen  ? 
That's  the  reason  our  taverns  are  so  good,  because  they  are  kept  by 
men  of  honour.  You  cai^'t  say  as  much  as  that  of  every  tavern  in 
London,  I  know.  Well,  I've  often  seen  the  old  General  sittin'  out 
on  his  stoop  smokin',  but  the  cigars  and  liquor  of  his  house  never 
cost  him  anything ;  ho  made  them  all  out  of  his  leg  that  had  no 
feclin'  in  it.  He  used  to  bet  folks  he  could  riyi  a  pin  further  into 
his  leg  than  they  could  into  theirs,  and  in  course  he  always  won  the 
day — and  didn't  they  jump,  and  screech,  and  scream  with  the  pain, 
when  they  tried  to  outdo  him !  Once  I  saw  him  win  a  hogshead 
of  brandy  from  the  Captain  of  a  Cape  Codder  that  had  just  arrived 
from  France,  by  bettin'  him  he  would  run  a  pin  clear  in  up  to  the 
head,  and  walk  across  the  room  with  it ;  and  he  did  it,  all^hough  I 
must  say  he  made  a  plaguey  wry  face  too,  as  if  he  had  a  little  over- 
done it. 

"'Well,  that  beats  all  natur','  said  the  Captin;  'but  Gineral, 
that  ere  calamity  fell  on  you  in  your  country's  cause;  take  the 


jii»k 


ite 


> 


>4 


..1.2^S.^. 


/.oWi'i--..^  ,  '^'.:;.-s-.::_i4i.j. 


I 


n 


■1 


Is  CHAT    WITH    THE    PRESIDENT.  V 

brandy,  it  will  make  your  leg  feci  again  like  a  Christian's  leg,  and 
your  iocs  tinglo  too  if  you  take  enough  of  it ;  and  when  that  is  done 
Bend  luc  word,  and  wc  Cape  Cod  skippers  will  club  and  send  you  ] 
another  one.' 

" '  You  doubted,'  sais  I,  '  my  lord,  about  his  Excellency's  chill  j 
what  do  you  think  of  this  case  ?     Aint  it  a  whopper?*  . , 

"  '  I  don't  for  a  moment  doubt  your  word,  IMr.  Slick  ;  and  there- l|j 
fore  pray  don't  misunderstand  me,'  said  ho  ;  *  but  there  is  some  mis- ' 
take  in  it.    It  is  incredible ;  for  if  the  leg  had  been  so  devoid  of 
all  feeling  it  would  have  mortified.     There  must  have  been  some 
slight  of  liand  in  this,  othorriso  it  does  not  appear  impossible.' 

"  '  Well,'  sais  I,  *  if  I  make  a  mistake  it's  my  fault.  I'll  bet  you 
a  hundred  dollars  that  Minister  corroborates  it.' 

"  *  Done  !'  sais  he. 

"  *  And  done  I'  sais  I ;  aad  we  shook  hands. 

"  Just  before  the  room  was  vacated,  Lord  Horton  and  Lord  Dunk 
Peterborough  bcin'  the  only  two  left,  I  saw  it  was  my  time.  Horton 
had  been  talkin*  to  Minister,  and  had  just  made  his  scrape,  and  was 
for  quittin'.     When  he  reached  the  door  he  turned  and  paused. 

"  *  Mr.  Slick,'  sais  he,  *  one  word  with  you,  if  you  please.' 

*'  That  was  grand;  it  was  just  what  I  wanted;  a  diversion  like  in 
my  favour. 

*'  *  In  one  minute,  my  lord,'  sais  I :  '  only  one  minute.' 

"  '  Minister,'  sais  I ;  did  you  know  General  Peep  V 

it  <Very  well,'  he  said  ;  for  he  was  a  man  of  few  words. 

"  *  Do  you  recollect  the  remarkable  power  he  had,'  said  I,  of  bcin' 
able  to  thrust  a  pin  into  his  leg  without  flinchin'  ?' 

"  ^I  have  seen  hira  do  it  a  hundred  times.'  ^ 

"  '  You  are  sure  it  penetrated  ?'  soid  I. 

^'  *  Certain,'  said  he ;  '  quite  positive.' 

*'  And  then  he  kind  of  inclined  his  body  forward,  as  much  as  to 
say,  *  I  guess  you  may  go  now,'  and  we  took  the  hint,  bowed,  and 
made  off.  *  , 

"  '  Are  you  satisfied,  mj^  %d  ?'  sais  I. 
'    "*I  must  be,'  ho  answered;  'the  terms  have  been  complied  with, 
but  I  cannot  understand  it  yet.     It  is  the  most  wonderful  thing  I 
ever  heard.     I'll  send  you  a  cheque  in  the  morning  for  the  amount 
of  the  bet.     (rood-night.' 

"  '  Beg  pardon,  Lord  Horton,'  sais  I,  '  for  keepin'  of  you  waitin', 
but  I  was  just  referrin'  to  Minister  to  decide  a  bet  between  Lord 
Dunk  and  me.' 

"  *  What  day  can  you  come  and  dine  quietly  with  me  ?'  said  he. 
'  I  want  to  talk  to  you  very  much  on  colonial  subjects,  which  no  one 
understands  half  as  well  as  yourself 

"  '  Sorry,  my  lord,'  sais  I,  '  but  I  am  engaged  every  day  until  my 
departure,  which  is  by  the  next  steamer.' 


CHAT    WITH    THE    PRESIDENT. 


29 


« '  Ab  I'  said  ho,  *  that's  unfortunate.    Could  you  manago  to  come 

und  take  supper  with  mo  to-morrow,  for  I  always  cat  lightly  before 

roing  to  bed  ?    I  dino  out,  but  will  return  early — say  half-past  ten  'i 

"  '  With  pleasure,'  sais  I.     *  I  am  goiu'  to-morrow  where  I  must 

TO,  but  where  I  needn't  stay ;'  and  wo  shook  hands  and  parted. 

"  There  is  some  satisfaction  in  talkin'  to  a  man  like  that,  he  can 

ilk  up  to  you,  or  talk  down,  as  the  caso  may  bo  ;  the  other  fellow 

thinks  he  knows  everything,  but  he  don't  know  this:  It  requires  a 

jood  stock  of  wit  to  set  itp  for  a  way  ;  and  that  though  quizzin'  w 

Ivert/  pleasant,  it's  a  game  that  two  can  plai/  at. 

'<  In  the  mornin'  up  comes  a  draft  for  one  hundred  dollars,  which 
|l  sent  back  in  a  note. 

"'Dear  Lord  Dunk,  '  '  •.5' 

"'I  return  you  the  cheque,  which  I  cannot  think  of  rotainin* 

!  under  the  circumstances.     The  log  which  was  the  subject  of  the  bet 

was  as  good  as  the  monastic  Latin  of  the  middle  ages,  and  like  it, 

was  a  tolerably  good  imitation,  for  it  was  a  cork  one. 

"  *  Yours  always, 

" '  Samuel  Slick.' 

"  Now  that's  what  I  call  sending  as  good  as  you  get.' 

"  Exactly,"  said  the  President ;  "  it  don't  do  to  let  benighted 
foreigners  take  airs  before  our  citizens,  relative  to  any  of  our  depart- 
mental officers.  My  ambassadors  may  not  dance  as  elegantly  as 
European  courtiers,  but  they  can  walk  round  them  in  a  treaty,  that's 
a  fact.  I  think,  we  may  fairly  boast,  Mr.  Slick,  and  it's  a  fact  wo 
have  a  right  to  be  proud  of,  and  a  sign  of  great  intellectual  supe- 
riority, that  we  have  the  best  of  the  bargain  in  every  treaty  we  have 
made  with  every  nation  in  the  world,  from  the  English  down  to  the 
Indians.  It's  a  great  feather  in  our  cap  of  Liberty,  Mr.  Slick,  for  it 
is  the  feather  that  forms  at  once  the  warrior's  plume  and  the  diplo- 
matist's pen.  You  must  help  me  to  a  hint  how  to  get  these  fish- 
eries. Now  they  are  going  to  build  railroads  through  the  provinces, 
I  propose  to  grant,  as  an  equivalent  for  the  fisheries,  leave  to  use  our 
lines  for  the  mails,  if  they  prefer  it  to  their  own.  Wo  must  offer 
something  like  an  omelette  soitffii,  that  looks  large,  though  ib  is  only 
a  mouthful  of  moonshine.     You  take.  Slick,  don't  you?" 

"  A  nod  is  as  good  as  a  wink  to  a  blind  horse,"  sais  I. 

"Oh  no,"  he  continued;  "our  Latin  aint  good,  and  our  English 
aint  good — at  least  so  they  say ;  but  there  is  one  admission  at  least 
they  must  make,  they  have  felt  that  our  swords  are  good.  But  go 
on,"  said  the  President,  "  I  want  to  hear  about  Lord  Horton.  I 
count  it  a  great  privilege  to  hear  you  talk,  for  you  are  a  man  who 
travels  with  your  eyes  open  always." 

^^  I  tell  you  ivhatf  Prcsideyit"  sais  J,  ^^seein'  is  helievin!  ;  hut  it 
aint  them  that  stare  the  most  who  see  the  best  always.'' 
8* 


^^ 


IH 


n 


^ 


so 


STEALING    A    BPEEOH. 


^■^.■■■■.W'^' 


'>  •  ..^' 


CHAPTER   II.  V 

STEALING  A  SPEECH. 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  continuin'  my  confab  with  the  President  the  next 
mornin',  "the  day  after  the  bet,  I  was  up  to  my  eyes  in  business, 
gettin'  the  papers  in  my  charge  in  order  for  quittin*  the  embassy. 
Wo  all  met  at  lunch ;  it  was  our  great  meal,  for  it  was  the  hour, 
you  know,  we  was  used  to  feed  at  home,  and  arter  all  it  seems  most 
proper,  for  natur's  dinner  beli  rings  at  one.  Dinner,  therefore,  was 
only  a  matter  of  form  arter  that,  and  used  for  show  and  hospitality. 
Champain  was  our  only  liquor,  for  that's  what  we  use  to  our  hotels, 
where  it  is  the  best  and  cheapest  wine  ;  there  it  is  the  dearest,  but 
who  cares?  Uncle  Sam  pays  for  all.  I  suppose  you  don't  know 
that  gentleman,"  sais  I,  "  President  j"  and  I  gave  him  a  wink. 
«  Well,  ril  tell  you  who  he  is. 

"You  have  heard  of  John  Bull,  it  is  the  gineral  name  of  the 
English,  as  '  Frog '  is  of  the  French ;  and  a  capital  name  it  is,  for  he 
has  all  the  properties  of  that  brute.  Breachy  as  Old  Scratch, 
breakin'  down  neighbours'  fences,  runnin'  off  with  other  bulls' 
wives,  bellowin'  at  nothin',  ready  to  fight  everybody  and  everything, 
and  so  stupid,  if  ho  sees  red  oloth  he  makes  right  at  it,  full  chizel, 
cross-grained,  onsartain,  and  dangerous,  you  can  neither  lead  him, 
nor  coax  him,  nor  drive  him.  The  only  way  to  manage  him  is  to 
hopple  him,  and  fortunately  he  is  pretty  well  hoppled  with  the 
national  debt.  It's  a  weight  to  his  heels  that  spiles  his  runnin',  and 
keeps  him  to  home  to  paw  up  the  dust  and  roar  for  his  own  amuse- 
ment. Well,  Uncle  Sam  is  us.  Uncle  is  a  nice  word,  aint  it.  Sir  ? 
It's  a  word  of  kindness  and  affection.  He  is  a  brother  of  your  father 
or  your  mother  j  and  if  he  has  no  chicks  of  his  own,  pets  all  his  nephews 
and  nieces,  makes  them  presents,  sends  them  to  school,  pays  for 
their  visits,  and  when  he  dies  leaves  all  his  ready  rhino  to  them. 
There  is  nothin  like  an  uncle,  but  '  Uncle  Sam '  is  the  president  of 
all  uncles.  He  adopts  the  whole  nation,  and  pays  all  the  household 
of  the  State.  He  is  pretty  well  imposed  upon  too  sometimes.  They 
take  it  out  of  him  whenever  thej'  can,  but  pretend  all  the  time  that 
what  they  do  is  for  his  good  and  benefit,  and  swear  they  haint  one 
mite  or  morsel  of  selfishness  in  'em.  It's  all  for  'Uncle  Sam.' 
They'd  die  by  him  if  it  was  necessary,  but  they  hud  a  plagucy  sight 
sooner  live  by  him,  that's  a  fact.  Our  first  uncle  was  Sam  Wash- 
ington, and  arter  tliat  we  called  them  all  Sam.  Sister  Sail's  chil- 
dren— the  little  cunnin'  ones — call  me  *  Uncle  Sam,'  cause  I  payd 
for  them  all.     Some  of  these  days  t  hope  I  shall  bo  Father  Sam, 


I; 


.^' 


-^ 


STEALING    A    SPEECH. 


8t 


and  then  I  shall  see  if  the  tune  of  these  critters  is  altered  and  new 
set  with  variations. 

"  But  I  was  speakin'  of  the  lunch.  Sais  Preserved  Fish  to  me 
the  other  attache — awful  name  that,  aint  it  ?  The  fact  is,  the  old 
Fishes  of  New  Hampshire  were  Puritans  of  the  strictest  school, 
makin'  Sunday  a  day  and  a  half  long,  by  beginnin'  at  twelve  o'clock 
on  Saturday ;  though  Preserved  has  got  bravely  over  that,  he  drinks, 
as  he  says,  '  like  a  fish,'  swears  all  the  newest  invented  slang  oaths, 
and  plays  cards  every  night,  and  the  devil  all  the  time.  Well  some 
hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  a  baby  or  spawn  Fish  like  to  have  died 
of  the  croup  or  the  cholic,  or  some  ailment  or  another,  but  got 
through  it,  and  his  mother  called  him  that  was  so  mercifully  saved 
'  Preserved '/  so  there  has  been  a  Preserved  Fish  in  the  family  ever 
since.  Well  his  fs'^^her,  ^Old  Presarved,'  has  great  interest  in  Var- 
mont,  and  Maine,  and  New  Hampshire,  where  he  makes  cookin' 
stoves  with  the  barrel-oven  top,  at  his  celebrated  factory  at  Maple 
Sugar  Grove,  and  sets  them  up  himself,  which  fetches  him  into  every 
man's  house.  The  women  all  swear  by  the  stoves  (and  they  are  a 
first  chop  article,  that's  a  fact),  and  in  course  by  him,  and  the  men 
ditto  their  wives.  He  can  influence  all  the  elections  there  up  and 
down,  and  get  his  son  on  the  embassy,  as  one  of  the  paid  attaches. 
If  he  would  take  care  of  himself  that  critter  would  get  on,  but  he 
won't,  he  can't  change  his  natur'.  A  herrin'  remains  a  herrin',  and 
a  dolphin  a  dolphin,  and  a  skate  a  skate,  and  this  '  odd  Fish '  will 
be  the  same,  till  a  shark  or  porpoise  sucks  him  in,  head,  gills,  and 
tail. 

" '  Well,'  sais  Presarved  to  me,  '  if  your  friend  Lord  Dunk  was 
here  to-day,  he  wouldn't  say  'T'^^ncle  Sam'  was  cold,  I  know.  See 
how  he  smiles,  and  smirks,  and  rubs  his  Lands ;  depend  on  it  he  feels 
good  all  over.  And  that  reminds  me  of  your  bet;  you  don't  intend 
for  to  go  for  to  send  that  feller's  cheque  for  the  hundred  dollars  back, 
like  a  nateral  born  fool,  do  you  ?' 

" '  Sartainly,  I  do,'  sais  I.     *  He  was  bit,  and  it  don't  convene  to  %• 
the  character  of  our  embassy  to  do  the  thing  that's  mean.' 

"  '  The  character  of  the  embassy  bo  damned,'  said  he.  '  I  railly 
thought  you  knowed  too  much  of  the  world  for  that.  Why  you  are 
the  only  Connec^'nt  man  I  ever  met  with  that  even  ever  heard  of  a 
conscience,  except,     .  ^  ii'inlay.' 

" '  Well,  1^  yon  stay  here  much  longer,'  said  I,  '  I  guess  the  char 
ractcr  of  our  embassy  will  be  what  you'd  wish  it.  But  if  you  had 
such  a  hook  in  your  gills.  Master  Fish,  you'd  be  glad  enough  to  open 
your  mouth,  and  have  it  taken  out,  and  then  be  thrown  back  in  the 
water,  I  know.' 

" '  Slick,'  said  he,  '  if  ever  you  dare  to  make  fun  of  my  name 
ril-'       '-  '  ^  ^ 

"  *  Take  a  glass  of  wine  with  you,  say,  that's  the  way  to  finish  the 


il 


wmmmmmmm 

■  -■-— CT^  v- -■*' 


,/.'■ 


S2 


STEALING    A    SPEECH. 


,:|       i 


?^'. 


M^ 


sentence,  for  I  shall  only  have  two  or  three  days  more  at  the  furdest, 
and  that's  too  short  to  quarrel  in.' 

"  <  Well/  said  he,  '  I  believe  you  are  half  right.  Scipio,  some 
champain.' 

"  '  But  what  makes  Uncle  Sam  so  good-natured  to-day?"  said  I. 

"  *  Why,'  said  he,  *  some  college  don  called  here,  a  sort  of  crack 
man,  a  double  first,  I  think  they  called  him ;  and  he  and  Uncle  Sam 
had  a  discussion  about  some  Greek  passage.  Since  he  went  away  the 
old  coon  has  been  up  to  his  eyes  in  Greek ;  and  I  rather  guess,  from 
his  manner,  that  he  has  found  out  that  he  is  right.' 

"  Sais  I,  amovin'  up  to  his  eend.  of  the  table,  '  What  does  your 
Excellency  think  of  the  Latin  of  the  middle  ages  ?" 

"Sais  he,  'Sam,  don't  call  me,  when  we  are  located  and  domesta- 
cated  together,  '  your  Excellency,'  it's  all  bunkum,  you  know.' 

" '  Well,'  sais  I,  '  we  are  in  a  land  of  titles,  Sir,  a  place  where 
folks  thinks  a  great  deal  of  'em ;  and  if  we  don't  do  it  when  alone, 
perhaps  we  will  be  too  free  and  easy  in  public' 

"*  Well,'  sais  he,  'and  it's  no  use  talking.  People  do  like  handles 
to  their  names,  perhaps  there  is  some  truth  in  that.' 

"  '  Besides,'  sais  I,  we  approbate  it  all  over  our  great  nation.  Do 
you  recollect  the  horseferry  above  Katskill  on  the  Hudson  ?' 

' '  Perfectly,'  said  he. 

" '  And  old  Rip  Van  Hawser  the  ferryman,  and  his  two  splendid 
galls  Gretchen  and  Lottchen.  Ob,  my  sakes !  weren't  they  whole 
teams  of  themselves,  and  a  horse  to  spare  ?  That  wicked  little  devil 
Gretchen  was  as  quick  as  a  foxtrap,  and  as  strong  as  a  man.  If  she 
clinched  you,  it  warn't  easy  to  break  her  hold,  I  tell  you.  I  recollect 
a  romp  I  onct  had  with  her.' 

"'Well  never  mind  that,  at  present,'  sais  he,  good-naturedly; 
'  but  I  recollect  old  Rip  Van  Hawser  perfectly.' 

I'./ But  don't  you  mind  his  darters?'  sais  I;  ' for  it  caused  more 
than  half  the  people  to  cross  the  ferry  just  c  git  a  squint  at  them 
beauties.' 

" '  We  won't  mind  them  just  now,'  said  he ;  '  but  what  of  old 
Hip?' 

" '  Well,'  sais  I,  'just  to  show  you  how  universal  titles  are  even 
in  our  almighty  everlastin'  country,  and  how  amazin'  fond  fellers  are 
of  'em,  I'll  tell  you  what  Rip  Van  Hawser  said. 

"  '  The  first  time  I  ever  crossed  over  that  ferry,'  sais  old  Rip  to 
me:  'Gineral,'  sais  he,  'just  stand  near  your  horse,  for  it's  more 
rougher  as  common  to-day ;  for  you  sec  and  ondcrstand  and  know 
that  when  the  wind  blows  so  like  the  toyvil  den 
when  de  wind  go  down  den  de  wave  go  right  down 
tJian  it  got  up.     So,  gincral,  just  stand  near  him.' 

"  '  I  aint  no  gineral,'  sais  I. 

" '  Well  den,  colonel,'  sais  he.  . 


It  is  rough,  and 
too  more  faster 


-/.  yv-'^ 


,■>-. 


STEALING    A    SPEECH. 


33 


-V 


"<  I  aint  a  colonel,  nor  an  officer  at  all.*    '  j-f, 

"  ^  Well  den  judge/  sais  he,  'just  hold  on  to  de  rein/ 

" '  I  aint  a  judge  or  a  lawyer  either,'  said  I.  ^*>-,     ..^'■'■ 

"  'Well  den  bishop,'  said  he. 

"  '  I  am  no  bishop  nor  minister  either.'  -      . 

" '  Oh  den,  squire.'  ; ; '  •  ■    ■' 

"  '  Out  agin,'  I  said,  laughing,  '  I  am  no  squire.' 

"  Den  what  de  teyvil  are  you  ?'  said  old  Rip,  lookin'  up  and  restin* 
on  his  oars.  .  , 

«  '  Nothin','  sais  I. 

"  '  Den,'  said  he,  '  I  charge  you  notin'  for  ferriage.  I  carry  you 
free  gratis,  for  you  are  de  fust  man  that  has  crossed  for  a  week  that 
had  no  title.' 

"'And  not  a  penny  would  he  take,  but  insisted  upon  my  goin' 
into  his  house.  Dear  me,  I  am  amazed  you  don't  remember  those 
galls !  There  wasn't  too  much  of  the  old  Dutch  build  about  them. 
They  were — ' 

"  Here  Ambassador  put  in  his  oar  with  a  quiet  larf.  *  I  didn't 
say  I  didn't  remember  the  young  ladie?.  But  what  question  was 
that  you  asked  about  the  Latin  language  ?' 

" '  Why,  your  Excellency,'  said  I,  '  what  sort  of  Latin  was  that, 
that  was  written  in  the  middle  ages  ?' 

"  '  In  general  barbarous  and  poor ;  but  there  was  som5  good,  and 
that  is  but  little  known ;  perhaps  Dr.  Johnson  knew  more  of  their 
literature  than  any  man  of  his  day.' 

" '  Then  it  is  no  great  compliment  to  say  of  a  man's  Latin,  that 
it  is  about  as  good  as  that  of  the  monastic  Latin  of  the  middle  ages  V 

"  '  Decidedly  not,'  sais  he ;  '  quite  the  other  way.  But  that  re- 
minds me  of  a  curious  story.  You  know  the  little  square-built 
nobleman,  that  always  sits  and  looks  the  peer?  (How  singular  it  is, 
Sam,  the  Whigs  are  the  haughtiest  in  private,  and  most  tyrannical 
in  public  life,  of  any  folks  here  !)  He  goes  by  the  nickname  of  the 
'  military  critic,'  on  account  of  his  finding  fault  with  everything  the 
Duke  did  in  Spain,  and  always  predicting  his  defeat  and  ruin.  Well, 
when  the  Reform  Bill  was  before  Parliament,  everybody  made  flash 
speeches,  and  among  the  rest,  the  '  great  military  critic'  He  made 
a  Latin  quotation,  of  which  the  reporter  could  only  catch  the  sense, 
as  he  had  never  met  with  the  lines  before ;  so  when  he  came  to  the 
newspaper  office,  he  told  them  its  purport — that  which  is  agitated  is 
durable,  but  that  which  is  unmoved  decays.  Well,  the  editors 
couldn't  recollect  it;  they  ran  over  ever  so  many  indexes,  time  was 
pressing,  and  they  had  to  try  their  hands  at  making  that  meaning 
into  Latin  verse.  The  next  year  the  puzzle  was  found  out;  the 
noble  peer  was  about  as  much  of  a  scholar  as  a  military  critic ;  ho 
fobbed  it  from  Boswcll's  '  Life  of  Johnson,'  who  quoted  thera  out 
of  the  fulness  of  his  store  of  learning.     These  are  tho  lines/  said 


.ximy-!"-- 


■   .'! 


il 


STEALING    A    SPEECH. 


to,  and  he  repeated  tliem  so  fast  they  sounded  like  one  everlastin' 
word. 

"  *  Give  them  to  me  in  pencil,  please,  Sir/  said  I,  '  for  I  couldn't 
repeat  them  an  hour  hence.  It  cant  that  Latin  is  so  heavy  to.  carry ^ 
hut  you  have  such  a  slipj^ery  hold  of  it.'  "* 

Ilere  the  President  broke  in  agin  with  one  of  his  confounded  in- 
terruptions. "  Slick,"  sais  he,  "  it's  a  pity  your  father  hadn't  sent 
you  to  College,  as  mine  did  me ;  you  would  have  been  a  great  man, 
if  he  had,  and  perhaps  filled  my  shoes."  And  he  looked  good  all 
over,  and  twisted  his  whiskers  with  his  fingers  with  as  much  plea- 
sure as  a  feller  does  when  ho  thinks  he  looks  rather  killin'.  Thinks 
I  to  myself,  a  man  may  be  a  president,  and  no  great  shakes  either, 
for  after  all  he  is  only  the  lead  horse  of  a  team.  He  has  got  the 
go  in  him,  and  that's  all ;  but  he  can't  hold  back,  which  is  a  great 
matter,  both  in  statesmen  and  horses.  For  if  he  slacks  up,  he  is 
rid  over  by  those  behind  hira,  and  gets  his  neck  broke — ho  must  go 
or  die,  I  didn't  say  it  tho',  for  it  don't  do  in  a  general  way  to  blart 
out  all  you  think.  But  I  observed,  "  President,"  sais  I,  "  that's  a 
question  I  have  often  thought  of,  and  on  the  whole,  I  think  it  is 
more  better  than  as  it  is.  If  I  had  been  a  scholar,  like  Ambassador, 
I  should  have  consorted  with  scholars  —  for  like  loves  like  in  this 
world — and  been  above  the  level.  Bein'  under  it,  as  all  the  masses 
are,  I've  mixed  with  them,  and  have  a  wider  rim  to  my  wheel.  If 
I  don't  make  so  deep  a  mark  on  the  road,  I  move  easier,  and  do  less 
mischief.  While  others  stick  in  the  mud,  I  move  on.  Poor  dear 
old  Minister,  Mr.  Hopewell,  was  always  at  father  to  send  me  to 
College;  but  father  used  to  say  tho'  ministers  knew  the  way  to 
heaven,  it  was  the  only  one  they  did ;  but  they  knew  no  more  about 
the  cross-roads  of  this  world  than  children.  So  what  does  he  do 
but  go  to  Boston,  under  pretence  of  selling  a  horse,  and  walk  into 
the  oflBce  of  old  iu  ,vyer  Leonard  Pie.  '  Lawyer,'  sais  he,  '  I  want 
your  advice.' 

"  Well,  old  Pie,  who  was  a  pretty  crusty  fellow,  and  a  knowin' 
old  coon  too,  put  his  big  grey  eyes  on  him,  and  held  out  his  hand, 
without  speakin'  a  word,  as  much  as  to  say,  if  you  want  me  to  talk, 
drop  a  fee  in,  if  you  please.  Laicycrs  aint  like  coachmen,  they  take 
their  tip  before  they  start,  toothers  icait  till  the  journey  is  over.  But 
father  warnt  born  yesterday,  he'd  cut  his  eye-teeth  as  well  as  Pie, 


It  occurs  in  Boswell's 
It  is  given  as  a  quota- 


*  I  have  looked  out  the  passage  referred  to 
«|Life  of  Johnson"  (Vol.  iii.  p.  271,  3rd  edition) 
tion  from  Janus  Vitalis,  and  is  as  follows : 

"  Immota  labfscunt 
Et  qua5  porpctuo  sunt,  agitata  manent." 

Tho  only  difference  between  the  ambassador's  copy  and  tho  extract,  ap- 
pears to  bo  an  omcudatiou  of  liis  own,  for  he  has  written  it  Lubascunt. 


•     STEALING    A    SPEECH. 


35 


so  what  does  he  do,  but  take  hold  of  it  with  his  own  hand.  ^  It 
ainte  law,  Squire,  I  want,*  said  he. 

"  '  What  the  plague  do  you  want  then  ?"  said  Pie,  try  in'  to  get 
his  hand  back  j  but  the  old  gentleman  held  on  like  grim  death  to  a 
dead  nigger. 

"  '  I  want  to  know,'  sais  father,  '  the  advantage  of  goin^  to  Cam- 
bridge.' _      ^  ..;... 

"  '  I'll  tell  you,'  sais  Pie.  '  A  college  editcation  sJiows  a  man  how 
devilish  little  other  people  know.' 

"  '  'Zactly,'  sais  father ;  *  that's  just  my  opinion ;  thank  you.  Sir.' 
And  he  give  his  hand  such  a  squeeze,  he  forced  the  ring  into  the 
bone  of  the  other  finger,  and  nearly  started  the  blood  under  his 
nails.    It  set  the  old  lawyer  a  jumpin'  and  a  squcelin',  like  anything. 

"  '  Confound  you,'  sais  he,  '  what  do  you  mean  by  that  ?' 

"  '  Nothin,'  i^ais  father,  ' but  a  mark  of  my  friendship.'  And 
while  lawyer  was  a-lookin'  at  his  hand,  father  made  his  scrape  and 
walked  off. 

"  '  Found  it  out,'  said  the  old  man,  when  he  returned. 

"'What,  father?'  sais  I. 

"  '  College  education,'  sais  he.  '  The  only  good  it  is,  is  to  show — 
how  devilish  little  other  folks  know.' 

"  I  believe  he  was  right.  President,  after  all ;  for  you  see  our  best 
scholars'  Latin  is  no  better  than  the  '  monastic  Latin  of  the  middle 


ages. 


>  » 


"  Slick,"  said  the  President,  "  the  advice  of  a  lawyer  without  a 
fee,  all  the  world  knows,  is  no  good.  If  the  old  man  had  dropped 
a  dubloon  in  Pic's  hand,  he  would  have  said :  '  The  advantage  of  a 
college  educatimi.  is  to  show  you  how  much  more  you  know  than 
other  people.'  " 

"  Perhaps  so,"  sais  I.  "  But  now  you  have  been  to  Cambridge, 
and  I  haven't,  can  you  tell  me  the  Latin  or  Greek  word  for  india- 
rubber  shoes  ?  Why,  in  course  you  can't.  If  you  could,  and  ad- 
vertised them  that  way,  who  the  plague  would  know  what  you  meant  ? 
Better  as  it  is.  Sir.  It  warn't  your  Greek  made  you  a  president,  or 
what  little  Latin  I  picked  up  at  night-school,  that  made  me  an 
attache.  But  I'll  proceed,  if  you  please,  with  the  story.  Where 
was  I  ?  Oh !  I  have  it.  It  was  that  part  where  I  said  it  warnt 
that  Latin  was  so  heavy  to  carry,  but  that  you  have  such  a  slippery 
hold  of  it. 

"  'Now,'  sais  I,  'your  Excellency,  that  reminds  me  of  a  trick  I 
played  a  feller  onct  to  Truro,  in  Nova  Scotia.  There  was  to  be  a 
great  temperance  meetin',  and  a  lectar,  and  resolutions  moved,  and 
what  not.  Well,  there  was  a  most  consaited  goney  in  the  same 
house  (tho*  that' 3  nothin*  very  strange  neither,  seein*  Blue-nose  is 
naterally  a  consaited  critter),  and  as  he  was  to  second  the  first  reso- 
lution; had  spent  oveniu'  arter  oveuiu'  in  writin'  of  his  speech,  and 


m 


mi. 


)  I 


r,i 


\ 


■''77*'5*T,  *"'.;'■-■.■■:;,  VV" 


»        '^; 


36 


STEALING    A    SPEECH. 


mornin'  arter  mornin'  in  gettin'  it  by  heart.  Well,  the  day  tho 
great  meetin'  was  to  be,  off  he  starts  down  to  the  lower  village,  with 
a  two-horse  waggon,  to  bring  some  of  the  young  ladies  to  he^r  his 
eloquence.  Well,  as  soon  us  I  seed  him  off,  I  goes  to  his  desis,  takes 
his  speech,  locks  the  door,  and  walks  up  and  down  tho  room,  a 
readin'  of  it  ovor  and  over,  like  a  school-lesson,  and  in  about  two  or 
three  hours  had  it  all  by  heart ;  and  that,  that  I  cou^  in't  repeat 
verbatim,  havin'  a  pretty  loose  tongue  of  my  own,  I  could  give  the 
sense  and  meanin'  of.  But  I  had  it  in  a  manner  all  pretty  slick. 
Then  I  puts  the  speech  back  in  its  place,  takes  a  walk  out  into  the 
fields,  to  recite  it  aloud,  where  none  could  hear,  and  I  succeeded 
most  beautiful.  He  returned,  as  I  intended  he  should,  before  I 
went  back  to  the  house ;  and  when  I  went  into  the  room,  he  was 
walkin'  up  and  down,  a  muttcrin'  over  his  speech;  and  when  he 
stuck,  lookin'  at  the  writin'. 

"  '  Hullo,'  sais  I,  *  are  you  back  already  ?  How's  the  ladies^  and 
where  are  they  ?' 

"  'Hush  !'  said  he.  'Don't  talk  to  me,  that's  a  good  feller;  it 
puts  me  out,  and  then  I  have  to  cipher  it  over  again.  The  ladies 
are  below.' 

"  *  Well,'  sais  I,  '  I'll  go  down  and  see  them ;'  and,  to  make  a 
long  story  short,  the  meetin'  was  organised,  the  lecture  was  read,  and 
the  first  resolution  was  moved.  I  mind  that  it  was  a  very  sensible 
one,  and  passed  unanimously.  I  don't  exactly  recollect  the  words, 
but  its  substance — '  llesolved,  That  it  is  the  opinion  of  this  meeting, 
that  those  who  drink  nothin'  but  water,  will  have  no  liquor  to  buy.' 
I  rose  to  second  it;  and  there  was  great  cheerin',  and  clappin'  of 
hands,  and  stampin'  of  feet ;  for  I  was  considerable  popular  among 
the  folks  in  them  diggins.  At  last,  silence  was  obtained;  and  I 
commenced  with  Horatio  Mulgrave's  speech,  and  delivered  it  word 
for  word.  Well,  it  warn't  a  bad  speech  for  the  time  and  place. 
Considerable  flowery  —  mixed  with  poetry  to  please  the  galls,  and 
solemncolly  and  tearful  t'ov  the  old  folk ;  sometimes  they  cheered, 
and  then  they  cried.  Arter  I  had  got  on  a  piece,  IMulgrave  sprang 
up,  half  distracted  with  rage  and  surprise ;  and  takin'  hold  of  me  by 
the  coat,  '  Why,  confound  it,  Slick,'  sais  he,  '  that's  my  speech.  I 
wrote  it  myself.' 

"  <  Pooh  !'  sais  I,  '  don't  be  foolish.' 

"  '  Well,  I  never,'  said  he,  '  in  all  my  born  days  !     This  beats  the 
What  a  Yankee  trick  !' 

said  this  quite  loud.     So  I  stopped  short,  and  paused,  and 
lookc        und. 

"  'Gentlemen  and  ladies,'  sais  I,  'Mr.  IMulgrave  sais  I  am  speakin' 
his  mind,  and  not  my  own ;  and  that  it  is  his  oration,  and  not  mine. 
It's  strange  our  minds  should  be  so  mw.h.  alike ;  for  if  it  is  actilly 
the  case,  I  must  be  makiu'  a  very  poor  speech,  I  can  tell  you.  So, 
with  your  leave,  I'll  sit  down.' 


devil 

K 


EVEBTTHINO    IN    GENERAL,    ETC. 


'  go  on,  go  on.' 


ii«>i;v.7- 


"  '  No,  no,*  sais  they ',     ^        _  _ 

"Well,  I  went  on,  and  finished;  and  when  I  had  done,  I  turned 
round,  and  said  out  loud  to  him,  '  Now,  Sir,  you  say  I  have  spoke 
your  mind  ?' 

"  '  So  you  have,'  sais  he.     '  It's  a  trick — a  cursed  Yankee  trick  !' 

"  I  come  pretty  near  increasin'  the  size  of  the  critter's  head  for 
that,  but  I  bit  in..  Sais  I,  '  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  is  that  fair  to  a 
stranger  like  me,  that  could  positively  chaw  him  up,  only  he  don't 
like  the  taste  of  the  coon  ?' 

"  '  No,  no,'  sais  they,  *  it  aint  fair.'  -  -^     ■ 

"  'Well,'  sais  I,  'I'll  tell  you  what  is  fair,  and  that  is  turn  and 
turn  about.  You  say  I  spoke  your  mind.  Sir ;  now  do  you  speak 
mine,  when  you  move  the  next  resolution ;  and  see  if  it  won't  be 
the  best  speech  you  ever  made  since  you  was  born.'  Creation,  how 
folks  larfed  I  'Now,'  sais  I,  amovin'  off,  and  settin'  down,  'take  the 
floor.' 

"Well,  ho  got  up,  and  scratched  his  head  —  'Ladies  and  Gentle- 
men,' sais  he,  '  ahem !  that  speech  is  my  speech ;  I  made  it ;  and 
this  is  a  trick ;'  and  down  he  sot. 

"  Well,  I  jumped  up,  and  sais  I,  '  If  his  mouth  has  been  picked 
of  his  speech,  a  thing  I  never  heard  tell  on  before,  it  aint  been 
picked  of  his  tongue,  for  that's  safe  and  sound ;  but  I'll  move  the 
resolution  for  him,  so  as  to  keep  things  astirrin';'  and  then  I  give 
them  one  of  my  ramblin',  funny  sort  of  speeches,  with  capital  stories, 
that  illustrated  everything  but  the  resolution ;  and  it  was  received 
with  immense  applause.  Mulgrave  was  only  on  a  visit  to  Truro,  so 
next  day  he  returned  to  Halifax ;  and  to  this  time,  nobody  under- 
stands a  word  about  the  story.'  " 

"  AVell,  I  neyer  heard  that  anecdote  before,"  said  Uncle  Sam, 
risin'.  "Take  another  glass  of  wine.  I  have  heard  of  plagiarisms 
on  all  sorts  of  scales,  from  purloining  a  quotation,  as  the  'great  mili- 
tary critic'  did,  and  borrowing  ideas,  down  to  using  printed  sermons, 
as  many  clergymen  do ;  but  this  is  the  first  time  I  ever  heard  of 
'  stcaliwj  a  speech  !' 


t 


)> 


CHAPTER  III. 
EVERYTHING  IN  GENERAL,  AND  NOTHING  IN  PARTICULAR. 

"  President,"  sais  I,  "  I  am  afraid  I  am  takin'  up  too  much  of 
your  valuable  time,  and  really  I  don't  want  to  bore  you." 

"  Bore  me !  pray  don't  say  that,"  said  he,  "  I  like  to  hear  you 
amazingly;  it's  better  than  a  printed  book,  for  I  can  ask  questions 


Tt 


\ 


'vC^ . 


T'T 


88 


EVERYTHING    IN    OENEllAL, 


as  you  go  along,  and  join  in  the  chat  with  observations  of  my  own, 
which  can't  be  done  t'other  way." 

Thinks  I  to  myself,  that's  just  tho  disagreeable  part  of  it,  for 
interruptions  spile  all ;  but  when  a  feller  has  just  <i;iven  mo  a  snug 
travellin'  job  onasked,  and  done  the  handsome  thing,  it  aint  any 
great  rriturn  artcr  all,  to  let  him  put  his  oar  in  sometimes,  even  if  ho 
does  catch  crabs  now  and  then,  as  tho  sailors  say,  and  half  cover  you 
with  spray, 

"  Exactly,"  sais  I.  "  I  count  it  a  great  profit  to  have  the  benefit 
of  your  remarks ;  for  a  man  don't  rise  to  the  tip-top  of  the  truck- 
head  of  tho  mast  of  the  ship  of  state  as  you  have,  President,  without 
ondcrstandin*  the  ropes,  that's  a  fact.  For  the  statesman's  ship  is 
diiferent  from  the  merchant's  ship  in  this;  you  can't  jump  in  at  tho 
cabin-window  in  one,  as  you  can  if  you  are  the  owner's  son  in  tho 
other,  but  must  begin  before  the  mast  in  a  regular  way,  for  then  you 
know  what  every  hand's  work  and  duty  is,  and  how  to  keep  'cm 
at  it." 

"  There  is  a  great  deal  of  truth  in  that,  Mr.  Slick,''  said  he.  "  I 
sarvcd  my  time  to  lam  politics,  first  to  town  mectins,  which  I  call  tho 
statesman's  nursory,  then  at  corporations  and  mass  meetins;  arter- 
wards  in  state  legislatures  and  conventions,  and  wound  up  for  the 
finishin'  touch  in  Congress,  besides  larnin'  the  word  of  command  in 
volunteer  companies,  and  sarvin'  a  campaign  agin  the  Florida  Indgians. 
Heroes  arc  at  a  premium,  and  sages  at  a  discount  with  us.  Throwin' 
others  in  the  shade  makes  one  stand  out  the  prominent  figure  him- 
self, as  Artimus  Whcelock,  the  great  Americon  painter,  used  to  say. 
I  think  you  understand  that  beautiful  figure  of  speech,  Mr.  Slick,  for 
if  1  don't  disremember,  you  arc  a  dab  at  paintin'  in  ilcs  yourself^ 
aint  you?"  ''■'■■ 

"  llather  a  daub,"  sais  I,  with  some  pretended  diffidence,  for  that 
is  a  subject  I  rather  pride  myself  on. 

"  You  are  too  modest,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  quite  patronizin'  like  : 
"you  hide  your  light." 

Modest,  sais  I  to  myself;  C(  lue  that  aint  bad.  If  I  aint  hanged 
till  that  charge  is  proved,  I  guess  my  neck  is  safe  from  a  rope,  at  any 
rate.  Modest !  Oh,  Lord !  and  I  thought  I  should  have  haw-hawed 
right  out. 

"  Well,  President,"  sais  I,  "  I  ought  to  be  a  modest  man,  that's  a 
fact ;  for  I'  /e  had  some  highsts  in  my  day,  when  goin'  too  confident 
on  slippery  ground,  that  was  enough  to  shako  the  consait  out  of  any 
man,  I  can  tell  you.  Oh,  what  a  rise  the  great  Daniel  Webster  took 
out  of  me  onct.  He  sold  me,  that's  a  fact,  and  almost  sent  me  down 
south  like  a  nigger.  I  felt  streaked  enough,  you  may  depend.  It 
is  a  caution  to  sinners,  I  do  assure  you,  and  may  be  a  wamin'  to 
others." 

"Slick/'  said  President,  "Dancl  was  a  man  that  e-tild  beat  us 


(< 


AND    NOTUING    IN    PARTICULAR. 


89 


botli  down  in  market,  so  he  could  buy  us  at  his  own  price,  and  then 
puir  us  off,  HO  that  he  couhi  sell  us  at  our  own  valiation,  and  make  a 
haiulsome  spcckelatiou  of  it.  Aud  yet,  great  as  ho  was,  somehow  or 
another  ho  never  could  mount  the  box  of  the  state-coach  and  get 
hold  of  the  ribbans,  as  I  have :  nohow  he  could  fix  it  j"  and  he 
strcightencd  himself  up,  while  ho  swallowed  down  the  juico  of  that 
bit  of  brag.  "But  let's  hear  about  Lord  Horton  and  the  great 
Danel." 

"Well,"  sais  I,  "i.  kept  my  appointment  with  Horton,  and  aa 
luck  would  have  it,  we  arrived  at  the  street-door  just  at  the  same 
time.  ' 

"'Why,  Mr,  Slick,'  sais  he,  'what  a  punctual  man  you  be!' 

" '  Punctuality,'  sais  I,  *  my  lord,  is  the  soul  of  business.  There 
is  an  old  say  in',  '  Take  care  of  the  pence,  and  the  pounds  will  take 
care  of  themselves.'  Now  take  care  of  the  minutes,'  sais  I,  '  and 
the  hours  will  take  care  of  therfiselves.  Pounds  is  made  up  of  pence, 
and  hours  of  minutes.  Attention  to  one  aims  money  for  mo,  and 
the  other  saves  it.  These  two  rules  will  make  any  man  rich ;  and  in 
fact,  my  lord,  thoy  have  made  me  considerable  well  to  do  in  thia 
world,  as  times  go.' 

"  English  folks.  President,  aint  like  ourn,  thoy  rather  like  to  see  you 
not  forget  what  you  be,  or  what  you  have  been.  Peel  used  to  mind  them 
now  and  then  in  his  speeches  of  the  spinnin'-jenney,  and  it  always 
took  well.  I  consait  myself  it  was  a  little  bit  of  brag,  but  it  an- 
swered his  purpose  any  way,  and  was  popular. 

" '  I  am  a  clockmakcr,'  sais  I,  '  my  lord,  and  I  ought  to  know  the 
valcy  of  time.  If  I  hadn't  the  right  beat  myself  it  would  soon  bo 
all  day  with  mo.  The  half  hours  that's  lost  a  whitlin',  a  smokin', 
and  a  lollin'  about  with  your  chair  tilted  back  on  its  hind  legs,  and 
your  feet  over  the  back  of  another,  lookin'  out  of  the  winder  at 
nothin',  and  a  twirlin'  your  thumbs  while  your  awaitin'  for  breakfast  or 
dinner,  or  what  not,  would  lam  a  man  a  language,  or  a  trade.  But 
what  in  natur's  the  use  of  my  talkin'  this  way  to  you  ?  You  mind 
an  appointment,  because  it  aint  perlite  to  keep  folks  awaitin' ;  but 
what  is  time  to  you  ?  You  was  born  with  a  silver  spoon  in  one  hand, 
and  a  silver  fork  in  the  other,  and  can  jist  spend  your  time  as  you 
like.  You  must  excuse  me  a  talkin'  such  nonsense,  but  the  fact  is, 
I  have  acquired  a  habit,  as  I  travelled  thro'  Nova  Scotia,  of  tryin'  to 
preach  a  little  go-ahead  into  those  everlastin'  sleepy  Blue-noses,  that 
I  forget  sometimes,  and  treat  other  folks,  that  don't  want  'em,  to  some 
of  my  old  ^aws.' 

" '  Wise  saios  call  them,  Mr.  Slick,'  said  he;  '  I  like  to  hear  them 
amaJiin'ly;  I  like  plain,  practical  truths,  uttered  in  a  plain,  familiar 
way ;  they  appeal  to  men's  common  sense.' 

"And  he  went  on  and  praised  my  looks  in  a  way  that  aint  no 
matter ;  I  kinder  felt  it  was  a  little  overdone,  and  for  a  man  of  iny 


^^n 


fM, 


40 


EVERYTIIINO    IN    GENERAL, 


)'  \\\\ 


consait  to  think  so,  is  sayin'  a  good  deal.  So  I  won't  put  it  down, 
or  folks  might  think  T  was  inakin'  out  my  own  appraisement.  'Well, 
well,'  sais  I  to  myself,  'there's  all  sorts  of  ways  of  soft  sawderiu', 
too,  aint  there  ?  He  is  a  politician,  and  if  ho  don't  know  how  to  lay 
it  on,  it's  a  pity.  He  intends  his  whitewash  shall  stick,  for  ho  has 
mixed  a  little  refined  sugar  and  glue  with  it.' 

"  '  But  you  are  mistaken,'  sais  he,  *  about  my  having  my  time  at 
my  command.  IIi(/h  stations  have  hi(/h  duties.  3Tuch  is  required 
of  tlienhj  to  lohom  much  is  f/iven.  Lordly  castles  are  besieged  or  he- 
troi/cd,  while  the  wooden  latch  of  poverty  secui'es  the  lowly  cottage. 
The  slecjylcss,  anxious  pillow  is  stuffed  with  down,  while  the  straw 
pallet  is  blessed  with  sound  sleep.  My  hours  of  toil  are  more,  and 
my  labours  harder,  than  those  of  my  hinds.  It  is  the  price  wo  pay 
for  wealth,  and  the  tax  levied  on  rank.' " 

"Slick,"  sais  the  President,  "them's  noble  sentiments;  T  appro- 
bate and  concur  them  with  all  my  heart.  Was  they  all  bunkum,  or 
genuine,  do  you  suppose?" 

"The  real  genuine  article,"  sais  I;  "if  they  hadn't  a  been,  I 
wouldn't  a  taken  the  trouble  to  listen  to  him.'' 

"  Well,"  sais  he,  "  they  are  elevated  sentiments  them,  but  they 
are  just  also.  I  feel  myself  Providence  has  reposed  in  me  a  high 
and  responsible  trust,  in  guidin',  governin',  advancin',  restrainin', 
and  happyfyin'  this  great  nation." 

Pooh !  sais  I  to  myself,  don't  be  silly,  for  he  was  agoin'  to  make 
me  blush  for  him,  and  a  blush  is  a  thing  that  has  not  improved  my 
looks  for  years. 

"  Yes,"  sais  I,  "it  makes  one  tremble  to  think  of  it,"  and  I  went 
right  on. 

" '  Yes,'  said  Lord  Horton,  '  the  public  have  a  claim  upon  me  for 
my  services.' 

"  ^  Well,'  sais  I,  '  I  beard  you  settle  one  of  the  claims  on  you  last 
night  to  the  House,  and  I  rather  guess,'  sais  I,  '  that  somebody  that 
you  was  a  dressin'  of,  that  shall  be  nameless,  feels  like  a  boy  that's 
histed  on  another  lad's  back,  and  that's  a  gittin'  the  cow-hide  hot 
and  heavy.  It  was  a  capital  speech  that,  a  real  fust  chop  article.' 
Thinks  I,  you  patted  me  on  the  back  jist  now  about  my  looks,  and 
I'll  rub  you  down  with  the  grain  a  little  about  your  speech.  But  he 
didn't  seem  to  mind  it;  either  he  was  used  to  praise,  and  kinder 
tired  of  it,  or  else  he  knew  it  was  all  true  as  well  as  me 
to  talk  of  something  not  so  parsonal.  I  saw  it 
read  a  man  as  plain  as  a  book.  Tradin'  about  as  I  have  been  all  my 
life,  has  made  me  study  faces,  the  eye,  the  smile,  the  corner  of  the 
mouth,  the  little  swelling  out  of  the  nostril,  and  the  expressions  that 
pass  over  the  countenance,  like  lights  and  shades,  when  scatterin' 
clouds  are  flyin'  over  in  a  bright  sunny  sky.  It's  a  fine  study,  and 
I  must  say  I  delight  in  it. 


or  wanted 
was  no  go,  for  I  can 


AND     NOTHINO    IN    PARTICULAR. 


"  IIo  merely  said,  careless  like,  *  I  am  glad  you  liked  it ;  when  I  ,^ 
am  excited  I  can  speak  well  enough,  I  suppose;  but  when  not,  I  . 
cau  acquit  myself  as  poorly  as  anybody.'  '^-      V ■  '  '  \ 

<<  <  Kxactly/  sais  I,  '  that's  what  the  great  Danel  Webster  once 
said  to  me.  Squire,  sais  I,  onco  arter  he  had  made  one  of  his  al- 
mighty speeches  to  the  Supreme  Court  to  Washington,  Squire,  saia 
I,  'that  was  splendid!  I  felt  prouder  of  New  England,'  said.  I, 
'  this  blessed  day,  than  ever  I  felt  afore  since  I  was  raised.' 

"  <  Well,  I  reckon  it  warn't  bad/  said  he,  '  that's  a  fact.  Truth 
is,  as  you  arn't  a  lawyer,  I'll  tell  you  the  secret  of  my  success  at  v 
the  bar.  I  require  a  good  swinging  fee,  and  won't  work  without  it. 
I  won't  look  at  a  client's  face  till  I  seo  his  hand.  When  that  affair 
is  settled  to  my  satisfaction,  then  I'll  hear  his  story.  A  good  horse 
that  works  hard,  requires  a  large  measure  of  corn.  When  I  have 
got  my  feed,  I  make  myself  master  of  the  subject  in  all  its  bearings,  < 
pro  and  con,  and  then  go  at  in  rale  right  down  airnest.  Whatever  . 
is  worth  doing  at  al],^s  worth  doing  well.  But,  Sam,  it  aint  no 
easy  matter  arguin'  law  before  them  are  old  judges.  It  must  be  all  - 
to  the  point,  clear,  logical,  connected,  and  ably  supported  by  well- 
selected  cases.  You  mustn't  wander  away,  and  you  must'nt  declaim ; 
if  you  do,  their  attention  is  off,  the  public  see  it,  and  you  are  up  a 
tree.  Now  that's  not  the  case  in  Congress ;  the  less  you  speak  to 
the  point  there,  the  better,  and  the  less  you  are  trammelled  and  ham- 
pered in  life  artcrwards.  A  few  forcible  passages  throwed  in  for 
people  to  get  by  heart,  and  admire  as  scraps  of  eloquence,  a  strong 
patriotic  flourish  now  and  then  about  keepin'  all  the  nations  of  the 
airth  in  order,  and  so  on,  a  flash  or  two  to  light  up  the  dulncss,  and 
a  peal  of  thunder  to  eend  wiih,  is  all  that's  wanted.  But  extempore 
preaching  is  the  easiest  kind  of  all  speakin'.  Preachers  have  so 
many  sermons  in  their  head,  upon  all  sorts  of  subjects,  that  if  they 
lose  the  thread  of  their  discourse,  they  can  catch  that  of  another  old 
eurnion  on  some  other  text,  tie  it  on  to  it,  and  go  on,  and  nobody  is 
any  the  wiser,  for  they  have  it  all  their  own  way,  and  there  is  no 
one  to  follow  them  and  tell  them  of  it,  as  in  Court  and  Congress. 
They  have  got  the  close,  as  we  say  in  law,  all  to  themselves.  But, 
Sam,'  said  he,  and  he  looked  all  round  to  gee  no  one  heerd  him,  '  I 
am  agoin'  to  win  that  case.' 

"  '  How  are  you  sartified  of  that  ?"  sais  I,  '  seein'  that  the  judges 
never  said  a  word.' 

"'Well,'  sais  he,  ^come  in  here  to  the  hotel  and  let's  liquor,  for 
I  am  nation  dry.  I  have  let  so  much  steam  off,  the  biler  wants  re- 
plenishin'.' 

"  Well,  arter  he  had  swallowed  the  matter  of  a  pint  of  champaine, 

sais  he,  '  I'll  tell  you.     I  believe,'  sais  he,  '  there  is  a  road  to  every 

created  critter,  if  you  could  only  find  it  out.' 

" '  I  am  sartain  of  it/  sais  I,  '  for  I  have  studied  human  natur* 
4* 


i'A: 


4B 


EVERTTHINO    IN     GENERAL) 


V'  J 


'I 


I 


i 


I. 


I'll'!!         H 


il'l 


all  my  life*  And  I  was  actilly  fool  enough  to  take  the  load  in  the 
conversation  myself,  for  which  ho  paid  mc  off  arterwards  rail  hand- 
eonio.  'There  is  the  sugar-plumb/  sais  I,  *aud  wliistle  for  the 
child,  the  feather  to  tickle  the  vanity  of  a  woman,  and  the  soft-sawder 
brush  for  the  men,  and  arter  all  they  arc  the  vainest  of  the  two. 
There.  iH  a  private  apring  to  evcrijone'a  affection;  if  you  can  find 
that,  and  touch  it,  the  door  will  jiy  open,  tho^  it  was  a  misc7''s  heart. 
It  requires  great  skill,  great  sleight  of  hand,  and  long  experience. 
Now,  one  thing  I  have  observed  about  soft-sawder  for  men.  Never 
flatter  a  man  for  what  he  excels  in,  for  ho  knows  that  as  well  as  you ; 
but  flatter  him  for  something  he  wishes  to  be  thought  expert  in,  that 
ho  can't  do  well.' 

" '  How  very  true  1*  said  Lord  Horton,  a  intcrruptin'  cf  mo. 
'  Old  Cupid  is  more  ambitious  to  bo  thought  irresistablo  by  women — 
which  he  is  not — than  a  great  statesman  and  diplomatist — which  he 
certainly  is.  You  have  a  wonderful  knowledge,  of  human  natur,  Mr. 
Slick.' 

" '  I  couldn't  do  without  it,  my  Lord.  To  handle  a  ship,  you 
must  know  all  the  ropes.' 

"  Well,  where  was  I  ?  Oh  !  in  the  little  back  private  room  of  the 
great  hotel  to  Washington,  a  drinkin'  and  a  talkiu'  with  Danel  Web- 
ster. 'Now,'  sais  I,  'Squire  Danel,  there  are  two  kinds  of  soft- 
Fawder  j  one  is  active,  and  one  is  passive.' 

" '  How  ?'  sais  he. 

"  <  Why,'  sais  I,  '  hero  is  a  case  in  pint  of  the  active.  We  had 
to  our  house  a  female  help;  she  was  an  Irish  gall,  and  ugly  enough 
to  frighten  children  from  crying,  and  turn  the  milk  of  a  whole 
dairy.  Well,  she  warnt  very  tidy,  and  mother  spoke  to  her  several 
times  about  it ;  but  it  did  no  good,  she  was  as  slatternly  as  ever  next 
day,  and  mother  was  goiu'  to  give  her  a  walkin'  ticket.  So,  thinks 
I  to  myself,  I  wonder  if  there  is  a  created  critter  so  ugly  as  not  to 
think  herself  decent-looking  at  any  rate.  Well,  sais  ]^  Nora,  I  am 
surprised  at  you.' 

" '  What  for,  your  honour.  Master  Sam  ?'  said  she. 

" '  Why,'  sais  I,  *  I  am  surprised  that  such  a  nice,  fresh,  healthy, 
good-lookin'  girl  as  you  be,-  don't  take  better  care  of  your  appear- 
ance.' I  saw  her  eyes  twinkle  agin  with  pleasure.  '  Not,'  sais  I, 
*that  your  good  looks  wants  scttin'  off,  but  they  ought  to  have  jus- 
tice done  to  theKi.  I  hate  to  see  so  handsome  a  gall  looking  so 
ontidy.' 

"'I  own  it's  wrong,'  said  she,  'and  it  shan't  happen  agin,'  and 
from  that  day  forth,  she  was  the  tidiest  and  smartest  gall  we  ever 
had. 

" '  That  is  active  soft-sawder,  and  now  what  I  call  passive  soft- 
sawder  is  this  —  deference.  For  instance  j  if  you  want  to  gain  a 
man,  don't  know  more  than  him :  it  humiliates  a  feller  to  be  made 


AND    NOTHING    IN    PAIITIOULAR. 


48 


inferior  to  the  one  Iio  is  a  talkin'  to.  If  ho  wants  advice,  that's 
another  thing,  give  it  to  hiin ;  but  don't  put  him  right  in  hi^  stories 
when  ho  is  adrift,  that's  niortifyin' ;  and  don't  make  any  display 
hoforc  him  at  all.  Get  him  to  teach  you,  for  everybody  knows 
gouicthiiig  you  don't.  If  ho  is  a  fi.shonnan,  set  him  a  talkiu'  about 
nets  and  bait,  and  salt  and  duties,  and  so  on.  If  he  lives  in  the 
woods,  ask  him  how  maple-sugar  is  made ;  what  is  the  best  season 
of  the  year  to  cut  timber,  so  as  to  presarvc  it ;  and  if  ho  don't  know 
nothin'  of  these  things,  then  set  him  to  tell  huntin'  stories  and 
legends  of  the  woods.  You  will  win  that  man's  heart ;  for  instead 
of  oppressin'  him  with  your  superiority,  you  have  mado  him  feel 
that  he  is  able  to  give  a  wrinkle  to  one  that  ho  is  willing  enough  to 
acknowledge  to  be  his  superior.  You  will  win  that  man  for  ever, 
for  you  have  given  him  the  upper  seat  instead  of  the  second,  and 
made  him  feel  good  all  over. 

"'The  fact  is,  when  I  went  to  travel  in  Europe  and  larnt  man- 
ners, I  found  politeness  had  a  great  deal  of  soft-sawder  in  it ;  but 
among  the  folks  you  and  I  have  to  deal  with,  you  might  take  oif 
your  hat  afore,  and  scrape  your  leg  behind  to  all  etaruity,  before 
you'd  carry  your  pint.     But  I  am  only  stoppin*  your  story.' 

"  'No  you  don't,'  said  hej  'I  like  to  hear  you;  your  experience 
jumps  with  mine.  As  a  lawyer  and  a  politician,  I  have  had  to  mix 
much  among  my  fellow-men,  and  in  course  have  studied  a  good,  deal 
of  human  natur'  too  —  for  lawyers  arc  like  priests ;  people  come  to 
them  and  disburden  themselves  of  their  troubles,  and  get  consolation, 
if  they  imy  well  for  it;  but  there  is  one  point  in  which  they  don't 
treat  them  like  priests;  they  don't  confess  all  their  sins;  they  sup- 
press them,  and  often  get  themselves  and  their  counsel  into  a  scrape 
by  it,  that's  a  fact.  Now  I'll  tell  you  how  I  am  sure  I  am  agoin'  to 
gain  my  cause.     But  first  help  yourself,  and  then  pass  the  wine.' 

"  Well,  first  I  took  one  bottle,  and  turned  it  up  on  eend,  and 
deuce  a  drop  was  in  it. 

"  <  Try  the  other/  sais  he. 

"And  I  turned  that  upside  down,  and  it  was,  empty  too.  Our 
eyes  met,  and  he  smiled.  Sais  he,  *  I  was  illustratin'  your  passive 
soft-sawder;  I  didn't  remind  you  that  you  was  wrong,  when  you 
didn't  drink.  As  you  advised,  I  didn't  oppress  you  with  my  supe- 
riority ;  but  I  set  you  off  talkin'  about  human  natur',  of  which  I 
guess  I  know  perhaps  as  much  as  you  do.  I  know  I  have  won  you 
for  ever  by  that  delicate  attention.  I  think  I  am  sartin  of  the 
Slickville  vote,  for  I  gave  you  the  uppermost  seat,  and  took  the 
second  myself.' 

"  Well,  I  couldn't  help  larfin,  I  swear.  '  Squire  Danel,'  sais  I, 
'I  owe  you  one  for  that;  I  call  that  a  rail  complete  rise.  I  am 
sold.' " 


/■f 


'  >i' 


'!    II 


■  '™»TW'* 


III. 


ft 


i'i 


I 


44 


EVERYTHINO    IN    GENERAL, 


"A  very  good  story,"  said  Horton.  "  1  like  that,  there  is  so  much 
dry  humour  in  it ;  it's  a  very  characteristic  story  that." 

"A  feller,"  sais  I,,  "my  Lord,  that  has  wrestled  through  life  as  T 
have,  must  naturally  have  got  a  good  many  falls,  and  some  pretty 
heavy  ones  too,  afore  he  larut  the  right  grips  and  the  proper  throws, 
that's  a  fact. 

"'Well,'  says  Danel,  'ring  the  bell,  please;  and,'  sais  he, 
'  waiter,  more  wine.  I'll  tell  you  how  I  know  I  am  going  to  win 
that  cause.  I  told  you,  Sara,  there  was  a  ro"d  to  every  man,  if  you 
could  only  find  it.  Now,  the  road  to  a  judge  is  the  most  diflScult 
one  on  earth  to  discover.  It  aint  a  road,  nor  a  bridle-way,  nor  a 
path  hardly.  It's  a  trail,  and  scarce!}'  that.  They  are  trained  to 
impartiality,  to  the  cold  discharge  of  duty,  and  when  on  the  bench, 
leave  their  hearts  to  homo,  except  in  a  ciminal  case.  They  are  all 
head  in  Court;  they  are  intre.iched  in  a  sort  of  thick  jungle,  so  that 
it  is  almost  impossible  to  get  at  them.  Still,  judges  are  only  men, 
and  there  never  was  but  one  perfect  man  in  the  world. 

" '  Bid  you  mind  that  little  judge  that  sat  there  to-day,  lookin'  as 
sour  as  if  he  had  breakfasted  off  crab-apples,  sauced  with  red  pepper 
and  vinegar  ?  Well,  he  aint  a  bad  lawyer,  and  he  aint  a  bad  man. 
But  he  is  a  most  disagreeable  judge,  and  a  most  cantankerous  chap 
altogether.  I  have  bagged  him  to-day;  but  it  was  very  difficult  play, 
I  assure  you.  You  can't  soft-sawder  a  judge,  he  is  too  experienced 
a  man  for  that;  the  least  spatter  even  of  it  would  set  him  against 
you;  and  you  can't  bully  him,  fov  he  is  independent  of  you,  and  if 
he  submitted  to  such  treatment,  he  ought  to  be  impeached.  Now, 
old  sour-crout  has  decided  two  cases  on  the  branch  of  law  that  was 
under  consideration  to-day,  pretty  analogous  to  my  case,  but  not  ex- 
actly. Well,  my  object  is  to  get  him  to  view  them  as  governin' 
mine,  for  he  is  not  always  quite  uniform  in  his  views,  but  how  to  do 
that  without  leanin'  too  strong  on  his  decisions,  was  my  difficulty. 
So  I  took  a  case  that  he  had  decided  on  a  collateral  branch  of  the 
subject,  and  that  I  examined,  criticised,  and  condemned  pretty  se- 
verely. He  defended  his  ground  strongly,  at  last  I  gave  in ;  I  only 
touched  it,  for  it  warn't  pertinent  to  take  off  the  appeaiance  of 
throwin'  the  lavender  to  him.  Then  I  relied  on  his  two  other  deci- 
sions, showed  their  ability,  soundness,  and  research  off  to  great  ad- 
vantage, without  folks  knowin'  it.  The  first  slap  I  gave  him  sounded 
so  loud,  while  people  was  sayin'  I  was  ruenin'  my  cause,  and  had 
lost  my  tact,  I  was  quietly  strokin'  down  the  fur  on  his  back,  and 
ticklin'  his  funny-rib.     lling  the  bell,  please.     Waiter,  the  bill.' 

"  Well,  heaiin'  that,  I  took  out  my  purse  to  pay  my  half  the 
shot. 

"  '  Don't  violate  yoiiv  own  rule.  Slick,'  sais  he,  '  of  passive  soft- 
sawder;  when  I  am  wrong  don't  set  me  right,  don't  oppress  me  by 
your  (I  won't  say  superiority),  but  your  equality.     Let  mo  bo  fool 


AND    NOTHING    IN    PARTICULAR. 


45 


re  is  so  much. 


enough  to  occupy  the  first  seat,  and  do  you  take  the  second,  you  will 
win  mc  for  life/ 

"  <  Squire  Danel/  s^is  I,  '  I  am  sold  agin ;  I  believe  in  my  soul 
you  would  sell  the  devil.' 

" '  Well/  sais  ho,  '  I  would,  if  I  could  find  a  purchaser,  that's  a 
fact ;  but  I'm  thinkin  Napoleon  and  Kossuth  would  be  the  only  two 
bidders.  The  first,  I  am  afeard,  would  confiscate  the  debt  due  me, 
and  the  other  would  pay  for  it  only  in  speeches,  take  it  out  only  in 
talk.  Now,  not  having  bought  the  devil  yet,  I  won't  speculate  on 
him.' 

"  Well,  the  bill  came  in,  and  he  paid  it ;  and  when  the  waiter 
made  himself  scarce,  sais  he,  '  Mr.  Slick,  now  and  then  I  admit  a 
friend  (not  in  public  life)  to  a  talk,  and  the  interchange  of  a  glass ; 
but,'  said  he,  *  soft-sawder  here  or  there,  I  never  admit  him  to  the 
privilege  of  paying  half  the  bill.'  Just  as  he  put  his  hat  on,  and 
was  going  out  of  the  door,  he  turned,  and  sais  he,  ^  Is  that  active  or 
passive  soft-sawder,  Sam  ?'  • 

"'Neuter,'  sais  I. 

" '  Give  me  your  hand,'  sais  he.  '  That's  not  bad ;  I  like  it,  and 
I  like  your  talk ;  but  recollect,  there  are  folks  in  this  country  besides 
yourself  that  toern't  horn  yesterday.^ 

"  Well,  I  was  alone :  I  lit  a  cigar,  and  threw  myself  back  in  the 
chair,  and  put  my  feet  upon  the  table,  and  considered.  *  Sam,'  sais 
I,  *  you  are  rold ;  and  you  didn't  fetch  much  either.  You  were  a 
fool  to  go  to  talk  wise  afore  the  wisest  man  we  have.  You  ai_  like 
minister's  rooster :  your  comb  is  cut,  and  your  spurs  chopped  off. 
When  they  groT  agin,  try  to  'practise  with  your  equals  only.  It  was 
a  great  lesson  :  it  taught  me  the  truth  of  the  old  sayin'  of  mother's,- 
/Saw,  don't  teach  your  grandmother  to  clap  ashes' 

"  *  Well,'  said  his  Lordship,  *  that  is  a  curious  story,  Mr.  Si 
and  an  instructive  one  too.     The  quiet  drollery  in  American  humour 
delights  me  beyond  measure.' 

"  *  There  is  a  part  of  that  lesson,  my  Lord,'  sals  I,  '  with  all  due 
deference,  you  ought  to  learn.'  Ho  kind  of  shook  his  head,  and 
looked  puzzled  what  to  say.  Sais  I,  '  I  know  what  you  mean — that 
it's  popularity  huntin',  and  beneath  your  station.' 

"'Not  exactly,'  said  he,  smiling;  but  looking  as  if  a  civil  answer 
was  sent  for,  that  wouldn't  come. 

"  ♦  Well,'  sais  I,  '  my  Lord,  it's  a  proof  of  knowledge  and  skill. 
Man  is  man,  and  you  mu3t  study  the  critter  you  have  to  govern. 
You  talk  to  a  child  like  a  child,  to  a  boy  like  a  boy,  and  to  a  man 
like  a  man.  You  don't  talk  to  all  men  alike;  you  don't  talk  to 
Lord  John  and  your  footman  the  same,  do  you  V 

"  '  Certainly  not,'  sais  he. 

" '  Well,  then,  you  must  know  the  world  you  have  to  govern,  and 
talk  to  folks  so  that  they  can  onderstand  you.    The  Eouse  of  Com 


^^ 


■.'i 

..^': 


■'#•' 


'1- 


•i^-'i"-- 


46 


EVERYTIIINa    IN    GENERAL, 


>\ 


\M^ 


■    F 


mons  aint  tho  people  of  England.  That  was  the  grand  mistake 
Peel  made :  he  thought  it  was,  and  studied  it  accordingly.  "What 
was  the  couscciueuce '/  lu  my  opinion,  ho  knew  juore  about  the 
feelings,  temper,  tone  and  trim  of  the  representatives,  and  less  of  the 
represented,  than  any  person  in  the  kingdom.  That  man  did  more 
to  lower  the  political  character  pf  the  country  than  any  statesman 
since  Walpole's  time.  lie  was  a  great  man,  I  admit ;  but  unfor- 
tunately, a  great  man's  blunders  are  like  accidents  in  powder-maga- 
zines— send  everything  to  the  devil  amost.  There  is  a  sliding  scale 
in  men's  reputations  now :  he  not  only  invented  it,  but  taught  them 
how  to  regulate  it  according  to  the  market.  But  let  byegonesbe 
byegones.  What^can't  be  cured,  must  be  endured.  To  return  to 
where  I  was,  I  say  agin,  the  House  of  Commons  aint  the  people  of 
England.' 

c(  ( Yery  true,'  said  his  Lordship. 

" '  Well,'  sais  I,  *  since  the  Reform  Bill,  that  House  don't  do  you 
much  credit.  You  talk  to  the  educated  part  of  it,  the  agitators  there 
don't  talk  to  you  in  reply;  they  talk  to  the  people  outside,  and  have 
a  great  advantage  over  you.  A  good  Latin  quotation  will  be  cheered 
by  Lord  John  Manners  and  Sir  llobcrt  luglis,  and  even  Lord  John 
Bussel  himself;  but  Hume  talks  about  cheap  bread,  unevarsal  suf- 
frage, vote  by  ballot,  no  sodgers,  no  men-o'-war,  no  colonies,  no  taxes, 
and  no  noth.a  .  Well,  while  you  are  cheerec!  by  half-a-dozen  scho- 
lars in  the  House,  he  is  cheered  by  millions  outside.' 

"  '  There  is  a  great  deal  of  truth  iii  that  observation,  Mr.  Slick,' 
said  he;  'it  never  strucJ:  me  in  that  light  before  —  I  see  it  i^ow;' 
and  he  rose  and  walked  up  and  down  the  room.  *  That  accounts  for 
O'Connell'.s  success.' 

^^" Exactly,'  sais  I.  'He  didn't  ask  you  for  justice  to  Ireland, 
H^ecting  to  convince  you ;  for  he  knew  he  had  more  than  justice  to 
Ireland,  while  England  got  no  justice  there;  nor  did  he  applaud  the 
Irish  for  your  admiration,  but  that  they  might  admire  him  and  them- 
selvp.^.  His  speeches  were  made  in  the  House,  but  not  addressed  to 
it ;  they  were  delivered  for  the  edification  of  his  countrymen.  Now, 
though  you  won't  condescend  to  what  I  call  wisdom,  but  what  you 
call  '  popularity  huntin'  and  soft  sawder,'  there's  your  equals  in  that 
House  that  do.' 

"'Who?'  sais  he. 

"  '  Dear  me,'  sais  I,  '  my  lord,  it  is  two  o'clock.  Uncle  Sam  is  a 
Salem  man,  where  the  curfew  bell  rings  for  bed  at  nine  o'clock.  I 
shall  be  locked  out,  I  must  bid  you  good  night.' 

" '  Oh !"  sais  he,  '  I  am  very  sorry,  pray  come  again  on  Friday 
evening,  if  you  can ;  wo  have  lost  sight  of  the  sul)jct;t  I  wanted  to 
consult  you  about,  and  instead  of  that  we  have  talkcl  of  everything 
in  general  and  nothing  in  particular.  If  you  can't  come  —  (^  I  am 
afraid  it's  onpossible,'  sais  I,  'my  lord')— will  you  bo  so  good  as  to 


.AND    NOTHING    IN     PARTICULAR 


47 


ind  mistake 


let  mo  hear  from  you  occasionally.  There  arc  some  transatlantic 
subjects  I  should  like  amazingly  to  hear  your  opinion  upon :  write 
unreservedly,  and  write  as  you  talk,  your  letters  shall  be  strictly 
confidential.' 

" '  I  shall  be  very  proud  of  the  honour,  my  lord/  said  I. 

"  He  seemed  absent  a  moment,  and  then  said,  as  if  thinking 
aloud, 

" '  I  wish  I  had  some  little  keepsake  to  present  you  with,  as  a 
token  of  my  regard ;  as  long  as  I  have  your  books  I  have  where- 
withal to  place  you  before  me  as  a  living  animated  being,  and  not 
an  abstraction.'  And  then  his  face  lit  up  as  if  he  had  found  what 
he  wanted,  and  taking  the  ring  you  see  on  my  left  hand  off  his  little 
finger,  he  presentrd  it  to  me  in  a  way  somehow  that  only  those 
thoroughbred  folks  know  how  to  do. 

"But  President,"  sais  I,  "our  time  is  out  too;  and  I  must  say  I 
am  kinder  sort  of  skecrcd  I  have  been  talking  too  much  about  my- 
self." 

"Not '  M  .  ^aid  he,  "I  actilly  think  you  are  fishin'  for  compli- 
ments, you  apologise  so.  No,  no,  I  am  sorry  it  is  so  late.  He  is  a 
fine  fellow  that  Horton.  But,  Sam,  thej'^  don't  onderstand  the  people, 
do  they?" 

"  They  don't,"  sais  I,  "  that's  a  fact.  Do  the  people  onderstand 
them  ?     Not  always,"  sais  I. 

"'Zactly,"  said  he,  "when  you  have  born  senators,  you  must 
have  born  fools  sometimes." 

"  And  when  you  elect,"  said  I,  "you  sometimes  elect  a  raven  dis- 
tracted goney  of  a  feller  too." 

"  Next  door  to  it,"  said  President,  larfin',  "  and  if  they  aint  quite 
fools,  they  are  entire  rogues,  that's  a  fact;  eh.  Slick  !  Well,  I  sup- 
pose each  way  has  its  r  •r.ilM,  six  of  one  and  half  a  dozen  of  the  other. 

"But  the  Prcsider  "'  i-'v\  he  adjusted  his  collar  and  cravat,  "  he 
ought  to  be  the  cbo£  .  :i  *he  people;  and  Sam  (it  was  the  first 
time  he'd  called  me  tLa,  I  A  I  see  he  was  warmin')  it's  a  proud,  a 
high  and  a  lofty  station  too,  r.j.^t  it?  To  be  the  elect  of  twenty -five 
millions  of  free,  independent,  and  enlightened  white  citizens,  that 
have  three  millions  of  black  niggers  to  work  and  swet  for  'em,  while 
they  smoke  and  talk,  takes  the  rag  off  of  European  monarchs;  don't 
it?" 

"Very,"  sais  I,  risin'  to  take  kavc.  "And  President,"  sais  I, 
for  as  he  seemed  dtstarmined  to  ttanc  In  the  market,  I  thought  I 
might  just  as  well  -  xke  short  meter  of  it,  and  sell  him  at  once. 
"President,"  sais  .,  *'  \  congratulate  the  nation  op.  havin'  chosen  a 
man  whose  first,  las^,  und  sole  object  is  to  serve  his  country,  ond 
yourself  on  the  honour  of  filling  a  chulr  far  above  uU  the  tbrcnea, 
kingdoms,  qncendoms,  and  empires  in  the  unevarsal  world."  And 
)T  e  shook  hands  and  parted. 


-A 


i 


48 


THE    BLACK    HAWK; 


■V--\-W»;'."(>- 


4 


CIlAPTEll   IV.  ^  . 

THE  BLACK  HAWK;  Oil,  LIFE  IN  A  FOilE.AND  AFTER. 

The  next  morning  I  called  on  the  President,  and  received  my 
patent  as  Commissioner  of  the  Fisheries  on  the  shores  of  the  British 
Provinces ;  with  instructions  to  report  on  the  same,  and  to  afford  all 
such  protection  to  the  seamen  and  vessels  of  the  United  States  as 
occasion  might  require.  I  was  also  furnished  with  letters  mandatory 
to  all  our  own  officers,  and  introdi  ■  rvto  the  governors  of  the  seve- 
ral colonies. 

Things  had  taken  an  onexpected  tu.  'ith  me.  I  didn't  look  for 
this  appointment,  although  I  had  resolved  on  the  trip,  as  one  of  re- 
creation and  pleasure.  I  had  not  b?jn  well,  and  eonsaited  I  did  not 
feel  very  smart.  I  guess  I  was  moped,  living  so  much  alone  since  I 
returned  to  Slickville,  and  was  more  in  dumps  than  in  danger.  So 
I  thought  I'd  take  a  short  trip  to  sea,  but  this  change  rendered  the 
tour  no  longer  optional,  and  it  became  necessary  to  lose  no  time,  so 
I  took  a  formal  leave  of  the  President,  and  returned  home  to  make 
preparations  foi  the  voyage ;  but  before  finally  accepting  the  office, 
I  explained  to  him  I  must  take  my  own  time  and  mix  pleasure  with 
business,  for  with  the  exception  of  statistical  returns,  I  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  fisheries  and  every  harbour  on  the  coast,  and  al- 
ready knew  much  that  any  one  else  would  have  to  learn  afresh. 

He  said  the  commission  was  a  roving  one ;  that  I  might  do  as  I 
pleased,  and  go  where  and  when  I  liked,  so  long  as  the  report  was 
made,  and  was  full,  accurate,  and  suggestive. 

Leaving  my  property  Jn  charge  of  my  brother-in-law,  I  inquired 
for  a  trading  vessel  rather  than  a  fishing  one;  first,  because  I  should 
have  the  opportunity  of  visiting  all  the  outports  successively;  and, 
secondly,  in  order  to  avoid  the  nuisance  of  having  the  process  of 
catching,  cleanin',  curin',  and  packin'  the  fish,  continually  goin'  on 
on  board.  Where  the  business  is  conducted  by  a  mercantile  firm  on 
a  large  scale,  an  outward  bound  vessel  is  sometimes  loaded  with  an 
assorted  cargo  of  notions,  which  are  exchanged  on  the  coast  for  fish, 
or  sold  at  exorbitant  profits  to  the  'longshore  folks,  when  she  returns 
with  the  proceeds  of  her  own  barter  and  the  surplus  fish  of  other 
vessels  belonging  to  the  same  parties  that  arc  employed,  or  rendez- 
vous at  Cape  Breton. 

Just  at  that  time  there  was  a  most  beautiful  rakish  little  clipper 
of  a  fore-and-after,  fitting  out  at  the  Sound  for  the  mackerel  fishery 
on  the  coast  of  Nova  Scotia,  the  prettiest  craft  I  almost  ever  sot 


A^V  \   ^ 


#^ 


OR,    LIFE    IN    A    POEE    AND    AFTER. 


49 


lyes  on.  Having  been  a  packet,  she  had  excellent  accommoclation, 
lud  was  f  tied  up  with  two  cabins,  one  small  one  for  the  captain,  and 
bother  for  the  mate  and  the  crew,  who  were  all  farmers'  sons, 
kmounting  to  twelve  in  number,  and  messed  together.  They  sailed 
J)!  shares,  the  vessel  was  entitled  to  half;  the  captain  had  four,  the 
late  three,  and  the  second  mate  two  shares,  and  the  rest  was  divided 
squally  an^.ong  the  crew.  In  fact,  every  one,  accoiding  to  this  ar- 
|:aiigement.  worked  for  himself,  and  was  naturally  anxious  to  make 
[ill  he  cou  d,  and  to  rival  his  neighbours,  so  as  to  see  and  to  show 
irho  was  the  smartest  man.  It  is  the  best  plan  a  fishery  ever  was 
carried  on  under.  Human  natur  was  consulted,  and  gave  two  prin- 
ciples for  them  to  work  on — self-interest  and  ambition.  Wages 
kvould  have  ruined  all,  for  the  crew  would  have  put  in  their  time 
then  instead  of  their  fish,  and  their  desire  would  have  been,  like 
)rovincials,  to  see  who  could  do  the  least,  while  they  would  have 
[spent  half  the  season  in  harbours  and  not  on  the  coast.  But  this  is 
Ineither  here  nor  there. 

When  I  first  went  on  board  to  examine  the  vessel,  I  was  greatly 
[struck  with  the  appearance  of  the  captin.  He  was  a  tall,  thin,  sal- 
llow-lookin'  man,  having  a  very  melancholy  expression  of  counte- 
[nance.  He  seemed  to  avoid  conversation,  or,  I  should  rather  say, 
I  to  take  no  interest  in  it.  Although  he  went  through  the  details  of 
his  duty,  like  a  man  who  understood  his  business,  his  mind  appeared 
[pre-occupied  with  other  matters. 

He  was  the  last  person  I  should  have  selected  as  a  companion  j 

[but  as  I  didn't  want  to  go  a  fishia' — for  it  aint  nice  work  for  them 

th-it  don't  like  it  —  and  the  parfume  aint  very  enticin'  to  any  but 

regular  old  skippers,  I  asked  him  to  give  me  a  cast  coastwise,  as  far 

as  the  Gut  of  Canso,  where  I  would  go  ashore  for  change  of  air,  and 

[amuse  myself  arter  my  own  fashion. 

"  Have  you  had  experience.  Sir  ?"  sais  he,  and  his  face  lit  up  with 
I  a  sickly  smile,  like  the  sun  on  a  tombstone. 

"  No,"  sais  I,  "  I  never  was  on  board  a  fishin'  vessel  afore." 

He  eyed  me  all  over  attentively  for  a  minute  or  two,  without 
sayiu'  a  word,  or  movin'  a  muscle.  When  he  had  finished  his  ex- 
amination, he  turned  up  the  whites  cf  his  eyes,  and  muttered  "  igno- 
rant, or  impudent,  perhaps  both.*' 

"I  guess  you  can  go,"  sais  he;  "but  mind,  Sir,  we  start  to- 
night." 

Well,  this  warnt  very  encouragin',  was  it?  I'd  half  a  mind  to 
give  him  up,  and  go  to  Maine,  and  sarch  for  another  vessel,  for  the 
pleasure  of  your  cruise  depends  entirely  on  your  companions.  It 
aint  like  bein'  on  land ;  there  the  world  is  big  enough  for  us  all, 
and  if  you  don't  like  the  cut  of  a  fellow's  jib,  you  can  sheer  ofi",  and 
give  him  a  wide  berth ;  but  in  a  vessel  there  is  only  the  cabin  and 
the  deck,  and  the  skipjper  actilly  seems  as  if  he  was  in  both  places 
5 


i-f'^ii. 


^. 


50 


r  i 


THE    B  L  A  (Mv    HAWK 


f 


at  once.  And  what's  wuss,  he's  master  and  you  aint ;  he  fixes  the 
hours  for  meals,  the  time  for  lights,  chooses  his  own  subjects  for 
chat,  and  so  on. 

You  hear  a  fellow  sayiu'  sometimes — Fm  ouly  a  passeuger.  Kow 
little  the  critter  knows  of  what  he  is  talking,  when  he  uses  that 
cant  phrase !  Why,  cverythin'  is  sum-totalized  in  that  word. 
Skipper  is  employed,  and  you  aint.  It's  his  vocation,  and  not 
yourn.  It's  his  cabin,  and  no  one  else's.  He  is  to  hum,  and  you 
aint.  He  don't  want  you,  but  you  want  him.  You  aint  in  his 
way,  if  you  don't  run  like  a  dog  atween  his  legs,  and  throw  him 
down;  but  he  is  in  your  way,  and  so  is  everybody  else. 

He  likes  salt  pork,  clear  sheer  as  he  calls  it,  and  smacks  his  lips 
over  it,  and  enjoys  his  soup,  that  has  fat  and  grease  enough  swimmin' 
on  it  to  light  a  wick,  if  it  was  stuck  in  it ;  and  cracks  hard  biscuits 
atween  his  teeth,  till  they  go  oif  like  pistols;  makes  a  long  face  when 
he  says  a  long  grace,  and  swears  at  the  steward  in  the  midst  of  it; 
gets  shaved  like  a  poodle-dog,  leaving  one  part  of  the  hair  on,  and 
takin'  the  other  half  off,  lookin'  all  the  time  half-tiger,  half-lurcher, 
and  resarves  this  fancy  job  to  kill  time  of  a  Sunday.  Arter  which 
he  hums  a  hymn  through  his  nose,  to  the  tune  the  "  Old  Cow  died 
of,"  while  he  straps  his  razor,  pulls  a  hair  out  of  his  head,  and  mows 
it  off,  to  see  if  the  blade  is  in  trim  for  next  Sabbath.  You  can't  get 
fun  out  of  him,  for  it  aint  there,  for  you  can't  get  blood  out  of  a 
stump,  you  know ;  but  he  has  some  old  sea-saws  to  poke  at  you. 

If  you  are  squeamish,  he  offers  you  raw  fat  bacon,  advises  you  to 
keep  yout  eyes  on  the  mast-head,  to  cure  you  of  dizziness,  and  so  on. 
If  the  wind  is  fair,  and  you  are  in  good  spirits,  and  say,  "  We're 
ge' Mg  on  well,  captain,"  he  looks  thunder  and  lightning  and  says, 
"Ii  you  think  so,  don't  say  so.  Broadcloth,  it  aint  lucky."  And  if 
it  blows  like  great  guns,  and  is  ahead,  and  you  say,  "  It's  unfortu- 
nate, aint  it?"  he  turns  short  round  on  you  and  says,  in  a  riprorious 
voice,  "Do  you  think  I'm  a  clerk  of  the  weatl/^r.  Sir?  If  you  do, 
you  are  most  particularly,  essentially,  and  confoundedly  mistaken, 
that's  all."  If  you  voted  for  him,  perhaps  you  have  interest  with 
him ;  if  eo,  tell  him  "  The  storm  staysail  is  split  to  ribbons,  and 
you'll  trouble  him  for  another ;"  and  then  he  takes  off  his  norwester^ 
strikes  it  agin  the  binnacle  to  knock  the  rain  off,  and  gig-goggles  like 
a  great  big  turkey-cock. 

If  you  are  writin'  in  the  cabin,  he  says,  "By  your  IcLve,"  and 
without  your  leave,  whops  down  a  great  yaller  chart  on  the  tlble,  all 
over  your  papers,  unrolls  it,  and  sticks  the  corners  down  with  forks, 
gets  out  his  compasses,  and  works  his  mouth  accordin'  to  its  legs. 
If  he  stretches  out  its  prongs,  out  go  the  corners  of  liis  mouth  pro- 
portionally ;  if  he  half  closes  them,  he  contracts  his  ugly  mug  to  the 
Bame  size ;  and  if  he  shuts  them  up,  ho  pusses  up  his  lips,  and  closes 
his  clam-shell  too.     They  have  a  sympathy,  them  twO;  and  work 


OR 


LIFE 


IN  A  fORE  AND  AFTER. 


51 


together,  and  they  look  alike,  too,  for  one  is  brown  with  tobacco,  and 
the  other  with  rust.  "      .      .■^• 

The  way  he  writes  up  the  log  then  is  cautionary.  The  cabiri  amt 
big  enough  for  the  operation,  oat  go  both  logs,  one  to  each  side  of 
the  vessel ;  the  right  arm  is  brought  up  scientific  like,  in  a  semi- 
circular sweep,  and  the  pen  fixed  on  the  paper  solid,  like  a  gate-post; 
the  face  and  mouth  is  then  all  drawed  over  to  the  left  side  to  be  out 
of  the  way,  and  look  knowing,  the  head  throwed  a  one  side,  one  eye 
half  closed,  and  the  other  wide  open,  to  get  the  right  angles  of  the 
letters,  and  see  they  don't  foul  their  cables,  or  run  athwart  each  other. 

It  is  the  most  difficult  piece  of  business  a  skipper  has  to  do  on 
board,  and  he  always  thinks  when  it's  done  it  deserves  a  glass  of 
rum,  and  such  rum  too — phew ! — you  can  smell  it  clear  away  to  the 
forecastle  amost.  Then  comes  a,  long-drawn  breath,  that  has  been 
pent  in  all  the  time.  This  is  going  on  till  the  dangerous  pen-naviga- 
tion was  over ;  and  then  a  piou»  sort  o'  look  comes  over  his  face,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "Thank  fortUji*  that  job  is  over  for  to-day !  It's 
hard  work  that."  So  he  takes  fe  chair,  puts  one  leg  of  it  on  the  toe 
of  his  boot,  claps  his  other  foot  Jigin  its  heel,  and  hauls  his  boot  off; 
and  so  with  the  other,  and  then  turns  in  and  snores  like  an  old  buffalo. 
When  a  feller  like  that  banks  up,  it's  generally  for  all  day,  that's  a 
fact. 

Oh  yes,  there's  no  fun  in  sailing  with  a  stupid  skipper  like  that; 
the  pair  of  you  look  like  a  sheep  and  a  pig  in  a  pasture,  one  is  clean, 
and  the  other  is  dirty;  one  eais  dainty,  and  the  other  is  a  coarse 
feeder,  swallows  anything ;  one  likes  dry  places,  the  other  enjoys  soft 
mud  and  dirty  water.  They  keep  out  of  each  other's  way,  and  never 
make  no  acquaintance,  and  yet  one  is  a  sociable  creature,  and  likes 
to  keep  company  with  the  cow  or  the  horse,  or  anything  that  is 
decent ;  while  the  other  skipper  like  does  nothin'  but  feed,  sleep  and 
grunt.     Man  was  made  for  talk,  and  can't  live  alone  that  way. 

Skippers  though  aint  all  cast  in  the  same  mould,  some  of  ^em  are 
chock  full  of  information,  and  have  sailed  everywhere  a'most,  and 
can  spin  you  a  yarn  by  the  hour ;  but  this  fellow  was  as  dumb  as  a 
clock  that's  run  down,  or  if  wound  up  has  the  main  spring  broke. 
However  I  thought  he  would  serve  my  turn  as  far  as  Shelburne, 
where  I  could  make  an  exchange  and  shift  into  some  other  craft;  or 
visit  the  harbours  as  I  used  to  do  in  old  times  in  a  waggon  instead 
of  a  vessel.  So  I  hurried  home,  packed  up  my  duds,  and  got  on 
board. 

The  more  I  saw  of  the  skipper  the  less  I  liked  him.  Whether 
he  was  really  pious  or  his  nervous  system  had  been  shaken  by  ranters 
I  could  not  tell.  Some  folks  fa'-icy  they  are  ill,  and  some  that  they 
are  religious,  and  as  both  put  on  a  colicky  face  it  aint  always  easy  to 
say  which  is  which.  It  was  evident  he  was  a  gloomy  enthusiast  who 
would  rather  die  than  laugh,  and  the  unfittest  messmate  in  the  world 


•l^4k 


■•"-m 


't' 


m 


■^^THE    BLAOK    HAWK: 


t. 


for  one  who  would  rather  die  than  shed  tears.  There  was  one  com- 
fort  though,  we  warnt  to  be  together  long,  and  there  were  other  folka 
on  board  besides  him.     So  I  made  up  my  mind  to  go  ahead. 

The  sea  air  refreshed  me  at  once,  and  I  felt  like  a  new  man. '  Tho 
"Black  Hawk,"  for  that  was  the  name  of  the  vessel,  sailed  like  a 
witch.  We  overhauled  and  passed  everything  we  saw  in  our  course. 
She  was  put  on  this  trade  seeing  she  was  a  clipper,  to  run  away  from 
the  colony  cutters,  which  like  the  provincials  themselves  havn't 
much  go  ahead  in  them ;  for  her  owners  were  in  the  habit  of  looking 
upon  the  treaty  about  the  fisheries  with  as  much  respect  as  an  old 
newspaper.  All  the  barrels  on  board  intended  for  fish  were  filled 
with  notions  for  trading  with  the  residenters  along  shore,  and  all  the 
room  not  occupied  by  salt  was  filled  with  chums,  buckets,  hay-rakes, 
farming  forks,  factory  cotton,  sailors'  clothes,  cooking-stoves,  and  all 
sorts  of  things  to  sell  for  cash  or  barter  for  fish.  It  was  a  new  page 
in  the  book  of  life  for  me,  and  I  thought  if  the  captain  was  only  the 
right  sort  of  man,  I'd  have  liked  it  amazinly. 

The  first  day  or  two  the  men  were  busy  stowing  away  their  things, 
arranging  their  bferths,  watches  and  duties,  and  shaking  themselves 
fairly  into  their  places  for  a  long  cruise ;  for  the  vessel  was  to  be 
supplied  by  another  at  Canseau,  into  which  she  was  to  discharge  her 
fish,  and  resume  her  old  sphere  of  action,  on  account  of  her  sailing 
qualities.  A  finer  crew  I  never  saw — all  steady,  respectable,  active, 
well-conducted,  young  men;  and  everything  promised  a  fair  run, 
and  a  quiet,  if  not  a  pleasant  trip  to  Shelburne.  But  human  natur 
is  human  natur,  wherever  you  find  it.  A  crew  is  a  family,  and  we 
all  know  what  that  is.  It  may  be  a  happy  family,  and  it  ought  to 
be,  but  it  takes  a  great  deal  to  make  it  so,  and  every  one  mi^  3t  lend 
a  hand  towards  it.  If  there  is  only  one  screw  loose,  it  is  all  day 
with  it.  A  cranky  father,  a  scoldin'  mother,  a  refractory  boy,  or  a 
sulky  gall,  and  it's  nothin^  but  a  house  of  correction  from  one  blessed 
New  Year's  Day  to  another. 

There  is  no  peace  where  the  wicked  be.  This  was  the  case  on 
board  the  "Black  Hawk."  One  of  the  hands,  Enoch  Eells,  a  son 
of  one  of  the  owners,  soon  began  to  give  himself  airs  of  superiority; 
and  by  his  behaviour,  showed  plain  that  he  considered  himself 
rather  in  the  light  of  an  officer  than  a  sharesman.  He  went  un- 
willingly about  his  work ;  and  as  there  was  little  to  do,  and  many 
to  do  it,  managed  to  escape  almost  altogether.  The  Captain  bore 
with  him  several  days,  silently,  (for  he  was  a  man  of  few  words), 
apparently  in  hopes  that  his  shipmates  would  soon  shame  him  into 
better  conduct,  or  force  him  to  it  by  resorting  to  those  annoyances 
they  know  so  well  how  to  practise,  wlien  they  have  a  mind  to.  On 
the  fifth  day,  we  were  within  three  miles  of  the  entrance  to  Shel- 
burn  Harbour;  and  as  tho  wind  began  to  fail,  the  Captain  was 
anxious  to  crowd  on  more  sail ;  so  he  called  to  the  watch  to  set  the 


OR,    LIFE    IN    A    FORE    AND    AFTER. 


58 


gaf-topsail ;  and  said  he,  "  Enoch,  I  guess  you  may  go  up  OLd  keep 

it  free." 
"  I  guess  I  may,"  said  he ;  and  continued  pacing  up  and  down  the 

deck. 
"Do  you  hear  what  I  say,  Sir?"       "        <".    \'    /    •^■^  > 
"  Oh,  yes,  I  hear  you."  ^  ■:■    - 

"  Then  why  don't  you  obey.  Sir  ?''  .   .^' -•.:  •  ?,t 


"  Because 


}) 


■  ■^.f 


"Because  I  what  sort  of  an  answer  is  that.  Sir?"  •:;'»-« 
"  It's  all  the  answer  you'll  get,  for  want  of  a  better.     Fm  not 
going  to  do  all  the  work  of  the  vessel.     My  father  didn't  send  me 
here  to  be  your  nigger." 

"  I'll  teach  you  better  than  that,  young  man,"  said  the  Captain. 
"While  I'm  here  as  skipper,  all  my  lawful  orders  shall  be  obeyed, 
or  I'll  punish  the  offender,  be  he  who  he  may.  I  order  you  again 
to  go  up  aloft." 
"Well,  I  won't;  so  there  now,  and  do  your  prettiest." 
The  Captain  paused  a  moment,  grew  deadly  pale,  as  if  about  to 
faint ;  and  then  it  seemed  as  if  all  the  blood  in  his  body  had  rushed 
into  his  face,  whien  he  jumped  up  and  down  on  the  deck,  with  out- 
stretched arms  and  clenched  fists,  which  he  shook  at  the  offender, 
and  cried  out,  • :  •  -  ':•,.•    ,    r  •      y  ..•;:,•;' ^ci'^:'?»J. 

"Aloft,  aloft,      '*^  •  "  '    "^     ;   '-■ 

•^  Go  up  aloft,  -. .  J.  '     » 'jM       .  ^.. 

You  sinner."  .. .  /  /     0-.,, 

The  other  came  aft,  and  mockin^  him,  said,  in  a  drawlin',  whinin' 

voice,  that  was  very  provokin',  '  '  T' \ 

"I  won't,  that's  flat,  '      '  '',  ^" /'  .!*^...' ' 

So  just  take  that,  1; 

You  sinner."  '     '         '' 

The  Captain,  whose  eyes  were  flashing  fire,  and  who  was  actually 
foamin'  at  the  mouth,  retorted, 

.  .      '        "May  I  never  see  bliss,         ,.'•'":.'      '■-■•"  ^/  - 
If  I  put  up  with  this,  '.       ;^-" 

You  sinner."  ^^^..^ 

It  was  evident  he  was  so  excited  as  to  be  quite  deranged. 

"  Sad  business  this,  Mr.  Slick,"  observed  the  mate.  "  Here,  Mr. 
Bent,"  said  he,  addressing  the  second  officer,  "I  can  depend  upon 
you ;  assist  me  to  take  the  captain  below,  we  must  place  a  hand  in 
chargci  of  him,  to  see  he  does  no  mischief  to  himrslf  or  anybody 
else,  and  then  let's  go  forward,  and  see  what's  to  be  done." 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  sais  he,  as  he  returned  with  the  second  mate,  "  this 
is  a  bad  business.  I'm  afeerd  our  voyage  is  at  an  eend.  What  had 
I  best  do  ?" 

''  Go  forward,"  sais  I,  "and  make  that  villain  do  his  duty.  If 
6* 


f?i 


^.. 


NSi'i 


ii 


' 


54 


THE    BLACK    HAWKJ 


£!-\ 


he  obeys,  the  knowledge  of  it  may  cool  the  captain,  and  calm 
him." 

lie  shook  his  head,  incredulously.     "Never  I"  said  he,  "never! 
That  man  is  past  all  huuiuu  aid;  ho  never  should  have  been  taken  I 
away  from  the  Asylum.     But  suppose  Eells  refuses  to  obey  me 
also?" 

"Make  him."  •    ^. 

"  How  can  I  make  him  ?"  .    • ,,  < 

"  Tie  him  up,  and  lick  him."  <    -  ^'' 

"Why  his  father  owns  half  the  ^Hooker.'" 

"Lick  him  all  the  harder  for  that;  he  ought  to  sot  a  better! 
example  on  board  of  his  father's  vessel." 

"  Yes,  and  get  myself  sued  from  one  court  to  another,  till  Fm  I 
ruined.     That  cat  won't  jump." 

"  Send  him  to  Shelburn  jail,  for  mutiny." 

"What !  and  be  sued  for  that  ?" 

"Well,  well,"  sais  I,  in  disgust,  "I'm  only  a  passenger;  but  1 1 
wish  I  was  as  I  used  to  be,  able  to  do  what  I  pleased,  whether  it 
convened  with  other  folks'  notions  of  dignity  or  not.  My  position 
in  society  won't  let  me  handle  him,  though  my  fingers  tingle  to  be 
at  him;  but  I  don't  like  lettin'  myself  down  arter  that  fashion, 
fightin'  with  a  feller  like  that,  in  another  man's  quarrel.  It  goes  | 
agin  the  grain,  I  tell  you ;  but  old  times  is  stronger  than  new  fashions, 
and  I  must  say  that  critter  deserves  a  tannin'  most  richly." 

"  If  you've  no  objection.  Sir,  I'll  handle  him,"  said  the  second 
mate. 

He  was  a  small-sized,  but  athletic  looking  man ;  not  near  so  strong 
apparently  as  Eels,  but  far  more  active.  His  complexion  was  rather 
yellow  than  sallow,  in  consequence  of  his  recently  having  had  the 
fever  in  Jamaica ;  but  his  eye  was  the  most  remarkable  I  ever  saw. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  mate,  "  you  may  whip  him  as  long  as  you  like, 
if  you  aint  afeard  of  boin'  sued." 

Well,  we  went  over  »o  where  our  hero  was  walking  up  and  down 
the  deck,  looking  as  big  as  if  he  had  done  something  very  won- 
derful. 

"  Eells,"  said  the  mate,  "  come  like  a  good  fellow,  go  up  aloft,  and 
do  as  the  capten  ordered  you ;  obeyia'  him  might  restore  him,  for  he 
is  beside  himself." 

"  I  won't ;  so  spare  yourself  further  talk." 

"  Then  I  order  you." 

"  Y^'ou  order,"  said  he,  putting  his  fist  in  the  officer's  face.  "A 
pretty  fellow  you,  to  order  your  owner.  Now,  I  order  you  aft,  to  go 
and  attend  to  your  work." 

"  Friend  Eels,"  said  the  second  mate,  "  your  father  is  a  most 
uncommon  particular  lucky  man." 

He  turned  and  looked  at  him  h^)g|^for  a  space,  dubersome  whether 


M 


OR,    LI 


ti 


IN    A    PORE    AND    AFTER. 


55 


|to  condescend  to  answer  or  not;  but  had  no  more  idea  what  was  in 

Istore  for  him  than  a  child.     At  last  said  he,  sulkily  :  "  How  so  ?" 
"Why,"  sais  3cnt,  "  ho  has  got  a  vessel,  the  captain  of  which  ia 

Imad,  a  niato  that  hasn't  the  moral  courage  of  a  lamb,  and  a  lazy  idle 
vagabond  of  a  son,  that's  a  disgrace  to  his  name,  place,  and  nation. 
I  wish  I  was  first  mate  here,  by  the  roarin'  Bulls  of  Bason,  I'd  make 

I  you  obey  my  orders,  I  know,  or  I'd  spend  every  rope's-end  and  every 
handspike  in  the  ship  first;  and  if  that  didn't  do,  I'd  string  you  up 
by  the  yard-arm,  or  my  name  aint  Jem  Bent,  you  good-for-nothin', 

I  worthless  rascal." 

"  Mr.  Bent,"  said  he,  "  say  those  words  again  if  you  dare,  and  I'll 

I  whip  you  within, an  inch  of  your  life." 

"  Oh,  yes  !"  replied  the  other,  "  of  course  you  will,  and  great  credit 

I  you'd  get  by  it,  a  great  big  ongainly  ugly  brute  like  you,  thrashin' 
a  man  of  my  size,  that's  taking  his  first  voyage  after  the  yellow  fever. 
Why,  I  see  you  are  a  coward  too ;  but  if  you  be,  I  beant,  so  I  repeat 
the  words,  that  you  are  a  good-for-nothin',  worthless  rascal  j  those 
were  the  words,  and  I'll  throw  in  coward,  to  make  it  weigh  heavier. 

I  Now,  come  on,  and  lick  an  invalide  man,  and  then  go  home  and  get 

I  a  commission  in  the  horse  marines." 

He  appeared  to  take  all  this  trouble  to  make  him  strike  first,  so 

I  as  to  keep  within  the  law.  A  fight  is  a  fight.  Squire,  all  the  world 
over,  where  fightin'  is  the  fashion,  and  not  stabbin'.  It  aint  very 
pretty  to  look  at,  and  it  aint  very  pretty  to  describe,  and  it  don't  read 
very  pretty.  It's  the  animal  passion  of  man  roused  to  madness. 
There  aint  much  difference  to  my  mind  between  a  reproarious  man 
and  a  reproarious  bull ;  and  neither  on  'em  create  much  interest.  I 
wouldn't  describe  this  bout,  only  a  genuine  Yankee  fight  is  different 
from  other  folk's.  Though  they  throw  off  their  coats,  they  don't  lay 
aside  their  jokes  and  jeers,  but  poke  hard  as  well  as  hit  hard. 

While  Eells  was  stripping  for  the  combat.  Bent  bammed  him :  sais 
he,  "  I  believe  I  won't  take  off  my  jacket,  Enoch,  it  might  save  my 
hide,  for  I  don't  want  to  have  that  tanned  till  I'm  dead." 

The  men  all  larfed  at  that,  and  it  don't  take  much  to  make  a 
crowd  laugh;  but  what  would  it  have  been  among  Englishmen? 
Why  it  would  have  been  a  serious  affair;  and  to  show  their  love  of 
justice,  every  fellow  would  have  taken  a  side,  and  knocked  his 
neighbour  down  to  see  fair  play.  But  they  have  got  this  to  larn, 
"  to  hung  vp  a  mail's  eyes  aint  the  way  to  enlighten  him." 

While  Bent  was  secui-ing  his  belt,  sais  he,  "  Enoch,  whatever  you 
do,  spare  my  face ;  you  would  ruin  me  among  the  ladies,  if  you  hurt 
that." 
They  fairly  cheered  again  at  that  remark. 

"  Depend  on  it,"  sais  one  of  them,  "  Bent  knows  what  he's  about. 
See  how  cool  he  is  !  He's  agoin  to  quilt  that  fellow,  and  make  pretty 
patchwork  of  him,  sec  if  he  oint."  - .;: 


^ 


1  M 


56 


THE    BLACK    UAWKJ 


•^^k  r>-    1 


!•  M 


Mm 


When  Bent  saw  him  squarin'  off,  he  put  up  his  guards  awkward 
like,  straight  up  in  front,  ''  Come  on,  Jack-the-giant-killer,"  saia  ho, 
"  but  spare  my  dogortypo.     I  beseech  you  hnvo  mercy  on  that." 

With  that  Kells  rushed  forward,  and  let  go  a  powerful  blow,  which 
the  other  had  just  time  to  eatch  and  ward  off  j  but  as  Eulls  threw 
his  whdlo  weight  to  it,  he  almost  went  past  Bent,  when  ho  tripped 
his  heels  as  (juick  as  wink,  and  down  ho  went  amazin'  heavy,  and 
nearly  knocked  the  wind  out  of  him. 

"  Well  done.  Bent,"  said  the  men.     "  Hurrah  for  Yellow  Jack  1" 

When  he  got  up  ho  blowcd  a  little. 

"  Aro  you  ready,"  says  Bent,  "  for  I  scorn  to  take  an  advantage, 
especially  of  a  coward;  if  so  bo  that  you're  ready,  como  on." 

Eells  fought  more  cautiously,  and  exchanged  a  few  passes  with 
his  antagonist,  but  we  soon  perceived  he  had  about  as  much  chance 
with  him  as  a  great  big  crow  has  with  a  little  king-bird.  Presently, 
Bent  gave  him  a  smart  short  blow  right  atwixt  his  eyes,  not  enough 
to  knock  him  down,  but  to  blind  and  bewilder  him  for  a  minute, 
and  then  when  he  throw  his  arms  wide,  gave  him  a  smart  right  and 
lefter,  and  had  time  to  lay  in  a  second  round,  beginning  with  the  left 
hand,  that  did  smashing  work.  'It  cut  him  awfully,  while  ho  fell 
heavily  on  his  head  upon  a  spar,  that  caused  him  to  faint. 

"Friends  an'  countrymen,"  said  Bent  to  the  crew,  "if  this  man 
thrashes  me  to  death,  as  he  threatened,  put  a  seal  on  my  things  and 
send  them  home  to  Cuttyhunk,  that's  good  fellers." 

Oh  !  how  the  men  laughed  at  that.  One  of  them  that  spoke  up 
before,  said,  "  I'm  as  glad  as  if  somebody  had  given  mo  fifty  dol- 
lars to  see  that  bully  get  his  deserts." 

It  seemed  as  if  Bent  wanted  to  tantalize  him,  to  take  a  little  more 
out  of  him.  "  Do  little  dear  heart,"  says  he,  "  is  mother's  own 
darliu'  ittle  boy  hurt '(  Did  that  great  big  giant,  Jim  Bent,  thrash 
mudder's  on  dear  little  beauty  ?"     Creation  !  how  the  men  cheered. 

Eells  sat  up  and  looked  round,  while  the  other  crowed  like  a  cock, 
and  pretended  to  flap  his  wings. 

"  Mate,"  said  Bent,  "  the  owner  orders  you  to  bring  him  a  glass 
of  water ;  and  he  says  you  may  put  a  glass  of  rum  in  it,  and  charge 
it  to  our  mess." 

Eells  jumped  up  short  and  quick  at  that;  sals  he,  "Fll  pay  you 
for  this,  see  if  I  don't." 

To  coax  him  on,  the  other  observed,  "  I  shall  go  down  this  time. 
Fm  beat  out,  I  am  only  a  sick  man.     Do  give  me  a  drink." 

While  he  was  speaking,  the  mutineer  rushed  on  him  unawares, 
and  put  in  a  blow  that  just  grazed  the  back  of  his  head.  If  he 
hadn't  just  then  half  turned  by  accident,  I  do  believe  it  would  have 
taken  his  head  off;  as  it  was,  it  kind  of  whirled  him  the  other  way 
in  front  of  Eells,  whose  face  was  unguarded,  and  down  he  went  in 
an  instant. 


OR,    LICE    IN    A    FORE    AND    AFTER. 


ft7 


.V"- 


To  mako  a  long  story  short,  every  time  he  raised  up,  Bent  floored 
him.  At  last  he  gave  in,  hollered,  and  was  carried  forward,  and  a 
tarpaulin  thrown  over  him.  The  other  warnt  hurt  a  bit,  in  fact 
the  exercise  seemed  to  do  him  good ;  and  I  never  saw  a  man  pun- 
ished with  so  much  pleasure  in  my  life.  A  hrave  man  is  someCimea 
a  desperado.     A  hullf/ is  always  a  coioard.    >     '  '  ".    ■•v'^^' 

"Mate,"  says  I,  as  we  returned  aft,  " how  is  the  captain?" 

"  More  composed  sir,  but  still  talking  in  short  rhymes." 

"  Will  he  bo  fit  to  go  tho  voyage  V 

"No,  Sir." 

"  Then  he  and  Eells  must  bo  sent  home."     '  >:  '  - ' 

"  What,  tho  captain  ?" 

"  Yes,  to  bo  sure ;  what  in  natur'  is  tho  good  of  a  mad  captain  V* 

"  Well,  that's  true,''  said  he;  "  but  would  I  be  sued  ?" 

"Pooh  1"  said  I,  "act  and  talk  like  a  man.''  ■"':••/ 

"  But  Eells  is  tho  owner's  son,  how  can  I  send  him  ?  I'll  be 
sued  to  a  dead  sartainty." 

"I'll  settle  that;  give  me  pen  and  ink:  —  'We  tho  crew  of  the 
'  Black  Hawk,'  request  that  Mr.  Eells  bo  sent  home  or  discharged, 
as  he  may  ch  '^oso,  for  mutinous  conduct ;  otherwise  we  refuse  to  pro- 
ceed on  thf        age.'     Call  the  men  aft  here." 

They  all  ired  and  signed  it.  .     :    < 

" Now,"  sais  Ij  "  that's  settled."  -  •■    nijt:^> 

"Bnt  won't  we  all  be  sued  ?"  said  he.  •■  '      .':  ;.'^ 

''To  be  sure  you  will  all  be  sued,"  said  I,  "and  parswe£?to  the 
eends  of  the  airth,  by  a  constable  with  a  summons  from  a  magis- 
trate, for  one  cent  damage  and  six  cents  costs.  Dream  of  that  con- 
stable, his  name  is  Fear,  he'll  be  at  your  heels  till  you  die.  Do  you 
see  them  fore  and  afters  under  M'Nutt's  Island  ?"  .• 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  they  are  Yankee  fishermen,  some  loaded  and  some  empty, 
some  goin*  to  Prince  Edward's  Island,  and  some  returnin'  home. 
Run  alongside  the  outer  ones,  and  then  I'll  arrange  for  the  passage 
of  these  people." 

"  But  how,"  said  he,  "  shall  I  make  the  voyage,  without  a  captain 
and  one  hand  less." 

"  A  mad  captain  and  a  mutinous  sailor,"  said  I,  "  are  only  in  the 
way.  I'll  ship  a  skipper  here,  off  the  island,  for  you,  who  is  a  first 
rate  pilot,  and  I'll  hire  a  hand  also.  You  must  be  the  responsible 
captain,  he  will  be  the  actual  one,  under  the  rose.  He  is  a  capital 
fellow,  worth  ten  of  the  poor  old  rhymer.  I  only  hope  he  is  at 
home.     I  tell  you  I  know  every  man,  woman,  and  child  here."     "^  ' 

"But  suppose  any  accident  happened,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he, 
"mightn't  I  be  sued,  cast  in  damages,  and  ruinated?" 

"  You  are  aieard  of  law  ?"  sais  I,  "  aint  you  ?" 

"Well,  I  bo,  that's  a  fact."  '   .;        v 


i^. 


>«- 1 


\ 


68 


:^'>''- 


THE    BLACK    HAWK 


*.-. 


>.>f:*, 


H'l 


HM 


1  !h" 


1 


"Well,  I'll  tell  you  liow  to  escape  it."  ^   "        '"    " 

'    "  Thank  you/'  said  he,  "  i  shall  be  everlastingly  obliged  to  you. 
What  must  I  do  ?" 

'*  Turn  pirate."  ..     <  < 

"And  be  hanged,"  sais  he,  turning  as  white  as  a  sheet. 

"No,"  sais  I,  "uo  cruiser  will  ever  be  sent  after  i/ou.  Turn 
pirate  on  this  coast,  rob  and  plunder  all  the  gulls,  dippers,  lapwings, 
and  divers  nests  on  the  islands  and  highlands ;  shoot  the  crtw  if 
they  bother  you,  make  them  walk  the  plank,  and  bag  the  eggs,  and 
then  sail  boldly  into  Halifax  under  a  black  flag  at  the  top,  and 
bloody  one  at  the  peak,  wear  a  uniform,  and  a  cocker!  hat,  buckle  on 
a  sword,. and  call  yourself  Captain  Kidd.  I'm  done  with  you,  put 
me  on  shore,  or  ^.'^nd  me  on  board  of  one  of  our  vessels,  ard  ush 
for  yourselves.  I  wish  I  had  never  seen  the  'Black  Haw!.,'  the 
captain,  Enoch  Eells,  or  yourself.  You're  a  disgrace  to  our  great 
nation.'"' 

*'■  Oh,  Mr.  Slick !"  said  he,  "for  goodness  gracious  sake  don't  leave 
me  in  a  strange  port,  with  a  crazy  captain,  a  mutinous  sailor " 

"  And  an  everlastin'  coward  of  a  mate,"  sais  I. 

"  Oh  !  don't  desart  me,"  said  he,  a-wringin'  of  his  hands;  "don't, 
it's  a  heavy  responsibility,  I  aint  used  to  it,  and  I  might  be " 

"  Sued,"  said  I.  "  That's  right,  bite  in  that  word  sued.  Never 
dare  mention  it  afore  me,  or  I'll  put  you  ashore  with  them  other 
chaps.  I'll  stand  by  you,"  sais  I,  "for  our  great  country's  sake,  if 
you  will  do  exactly  as  I  tell  you.     Will  you  promise  ?" 

"Yes,"  sais  he,  "I  will,  and  never  talk  about  being  sued. 
Never,"  said  he. 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  stand  by  you ;  and  if  you  are  sued,  I'll  pay  all 
damage." 

"  Oh !  Mr.  Slick,"  sais  he,  "  you  must  excuse  me.  I  am  a  good 
seaman,  and  can  obey  orders.  I  never  commanded,  but  I  can  do  the 
work  of  a  mate." 

"  No,  you  can't,"  sais  I.  "  Why  didn't  you  take  a  handspike, 
and  knock  that  mutinous  rascal  over?" 

"  A.ud  be "  said  he. 

"Sued,"  sais  I.  "Yes,  sued;  and  suppose  you  had  been, 
wouldn't  all  the  mariners  of  the  Sound  a-stood  by  you,  and  called 
you  a  trump  ?  I  wish  to  goodness  Bent  had  a-licked  you,  instead 
of  Enoch.  It  would  have  done  i/ou  good — it  will  make  hiin  despe- 
rate. Go  home  and  farm;  and  when  a  bull  roars,  jump  over  a 
fence,  and  get  vitated  and  sued  for  trespassin'  on  your  neighbour's 
farm.     Phew !  I  hate  a  coward." 

"I  aint  a  coward;  I'm  foolish,  that's  all  —  a  little  nervous  about 
responsibilities  I  aint  used  to ;  but  whatever  you  say,  I'll  do." 

"  I'll  take  you  at  your  word,"  sais  I.  "  Range  up  alongside  of 
that  outer  craft,  and  send  me  aboard." 


OR,    LIFE    IN    A    PORE    AND    AFTER. 


b» 


Well,  I  hailed  the  vessel,  and  found  she  was  the  '  Bald  Eagle,' 
Captain  Love,  of  Nantuckev  "Captain  Love!"  sais  I  to  myself: 
"just  such  a  fellow,  I  suppose,  as  this  mate ;  a  sort  of  milksop,  that 
goes  to  sea  in  fine  weather ;  and  when  he  is  to  home,  is  a  sort  of 
amphibious  beau  at  all  the  husken,  quilten,  and  thanksgivin*  parties. 
It's  half-past  twelve  o'clock  with  our  fishermeu,  when  a  skipper's 
name  is  Love."  Sweet  love !  —  home,  sweet  home  I  I  consaited  I 
did  not  feel  quite  so  well  as  when  I  left  Slickville. 

" Captain  on  board ?"  sais  I.  r.   /;, ' 

"I  guess  he  is,"  said  one  of  the  hands.  ,        X'^- 

"Then  let  down  the  ladder,"  sais  I;  "please."  ,    •  - '  '• 

"Won't  a  rope  do  as  well?"  sais  he. 

"It  would  do  on  a  pinch,"  sais  I.  "I  do  suppose  I  could  come 
up  hand  over  hand  by  it,  and  lick  you  with  the  eend  of  it,  too,  if  I 
liked;  but  being  a  landsman,  I  don't  calculate  to  climb,  when  there 
are  a  pair  of  stairs ;  and,  to  my  mind,  it  wouldn't  lower  our  great 
nation,  if  its  citizens  were  a  little  grain  more  civil.  If  you  don't  let 
it  down,  as  Colonel  Crockett  said,  *  You  may  go  to  the  devil,  and  I'U ' 
go  to  Texas.'  " 

"Well,"  sais  he,  "  a  pleasant  voyage  to  you.  They  tell  me  it's  a 
fine  country,  that." 

"Push  off,  my  men,"  sais  I;  and  while  they  were  backing  water, 
" Give  my  compliments  to  the  Captain,"  I  said;  "and  tell  him  Mr. 
Slick  called  to  see  him,  and  pay  his  respects  to  him ;  but  was  drove 
off  with  impudence  and  insult," 

Just  then,  a  man  rushed  down  from  the  quarter-deck,  and  called 
out,  "  What  in  the  world  is  all  this  ?  Who  did  that  person  say  he 
was?" 

"  Mr,  Slick,'   said  the  spokesman. 

"And  how  dare  you.  Sir,  talk  to  a  gentleman  in  that  way?  This 
way,  Mr.  Slick,"  for  it  was  getting  dark ;  "  this  way,  please.  Very 
glad  to  see  you.  Sir.  Down  with  the  ship's  ladder  there,  and  fasten 
the  man-ropes  J  and  here,  one  of  you  go  down  the  first  two  steps, 
and  hold  the  ropes  steady,  and  back  up  before  him.  Welcome,  Sir," 
sais  he,  "  on  board  the  '  Bald  Eagle.'  The  Captain  is  below,  and 
Aviil  be  delighted  to  see  you  :  I'm  his  first  matt.  But  you  must  stay 
here  to-night,  Sir."  Then,  taking  me  a  little  on  one  side,  he  said  ? 
"  I  presume  you  don't  know  our  skipper  ?  Excuse  me  for  hinting 
you  will  havp;  to  humour  him  a  little  at  first,  for  he  is  a  regular 
character — rough  as  a  Polar  bear;  but  his  heart  is  in  the  right  place 
Did  you  never  hear  of  *  Old  Blowhard  ?'  "  >         ,      '  i,?;. 7 ^' 


U' 


-1  ■, 


if 


60 


THE    BLACK    HAWK 


r^ 


vrtt^-i, "^.>i{.;^:  ^■,/;„ 


•if    .  ■ 


CHAPTER  V. 
OLD  BLOWHARD. 


"  This  way,  Mr.  Slick,  please,"  said  the  mate.  "  Before  wo  go 
below,  I  want  to  prepare  you  for  scein'  our  captain.  It  is  not  easy 
to  find  his  counterpart.  He  is  singularly  eccentric,  and  standi  out 
in  bold  relief  from  the  lest  of  his  race.     He  may  be  said  to  be  sui 

"  Hullo  I"  sais  I  to  myself,  "  where  the  plague  did  you  pick  up 
that  expression  ?  It  strikes  me  his  mate  is  sui  generis,  too.'^ 
1-  *'  The  only  thing  that  I  know  to  compare  him  to,"  he  continued, 
"  is  a  large  cocoa-nut.  First,  he  is  covered  with  a  rough  husk  that 
a  hatchet  would  hardly  cut  thro',  and  then  inside  of  that  is  a  hard 
shell,  that  would  require  a  saw  amost  to  penetrate ;  but  arter  that 
the  core  is  soft  and  sweet,  and  it's  filled  with  the  very  milk  of  human 
kindness.  You  must  understand  this,  and  make  allowances  for  it, 
or  you  won't  get  on  well  together  at  all ;  and  when  you  do  come  to 
know  him,  you  will  like  him.  He  has  been  to  me  more  than  a 
friend.  If  he  had  been  my  own  father,  he  couldn't  have  been  kinder 
to  me.  The  name  he  goes  by  among  the  fishermen,  is  *  Old  Blow- 
hard;'  he  is  a  stern  but  just  man,  and  is  the  Commodore  of  the  fleet, 
and  applied  to  in  all  cases  of  difficulty.  Now  follow  me,  but  when 
you  descend  half  way,  remain  there  till  I  announce  you,  that  you 
may  hear  his  strange  way  of  talking." 

"  Captin,"  said  he,  as  he  opened  the  door  of  the  little  after-cabin, 
'Hhere  is  a  stranger  here  wishes  to  see  you." 

"  What  the  devil  have  I  got  to  do  with  a  stranger  ?"  he  replied, 
in  a  voice  as  loud  as  if  he  was  speakin'  in  a  gale  of  wind.  "  He 
don't  want  to  see  me  at  all,  and  if  he  has  got  anythin'  to  say,  just 
bear  what  it  is,  Matey,  and  then  send  him  about  his  business.  No, 
he  don't  want  me ;  but  I'll  tell  you  what  the  lazy  spongin'  vaga- 
bond wants,  he  is  fishin'  for  a  supper  to  eat;  for  these  great  hungry, 
gaunt,  gander-bellied,  blue-noses  take  as  much  bait  as  a  shark.  Tell 
the  cook  to  boil  him  a  five-pound  piece  of  pork  and  a  peck  of  pota- 
toes, and  then  to  stand  over  him  with  the  rollin'-pin,  and  make  him 
eat  up  every  mite  and  morsel  of  it  clean,  for  we  aint  used  to  other  folks' 
leavin's  here.  Some  fun  in  that.  Matey,  aint  there  ?"  And  he 
larfed  heartily  at  his  own  joke.  *' Matey,"  said  he,  "I  have  almost 
finished  my  invention  for  this  patent  jigger  j  start  that  critter  forrard, 
and  then  come  and  look  at  it,  Sonney." 

The  mate  then  returned  to  mc;  and  extendin'  to  me  his  hand, 


OLD    BLOWHARD 


ex 


with  which  he  gave  me  a  friendly  squeeze,  wo  descended  to  the  door. 
Captain  Love  wa.?  sittin'  at  a  table  with  a  lamp  before  him,  and  was 
wholly  absorbed  in  conteinplatiu*  of  an  instrument  he  was  at  work 
at,  ti:at  resembled  n  gas-burner  with  four  long  arms,  each  of  which 
was  covered  on  the  outside  with  fish-hooks.  From  the  manner  in 
which  h>3  worked  it  by  a  cord  up  and  down,  it  appeared  to  be  so 
contrived  as  to  be  let  easily  into  the  water,  like  a  single  bolt  of  iron, 
so  as  not  to  disturb  the  mackerel,  and  then  by  pullin'  the  line  to 
stretch  out  the  arms,  and  in  that  manner  be  drawn  up  through  the 
shoal  of  fish.     It  was  this  he  had  just  called  his  "  patent  jigger." 

He  was  a  tall,  wiry,  sunburnt,  weather-beaten  man.  His  hair 
was  long  and  straight,  and  as  black  as  an  Indian's,  and  fell  wildly 
over  his  back  and  shoulders.  In  short,  he  might  easily  have  been 
niistaken  for  a  savage.  His  face  exhibited  a  singular  compound  of 
violent  passion  and  good-nature.  He  was  rigged  in  an  old  green 
pea-jacket,  made  of  a  sort  of  serge,  (that  is  now  so  commonly  worn 
as  to  be  almost  a  fisherman's  uniform),  a  pair  of  yellow  waterproof 
cotton  duck-trowsers,  surmounted  by  a  pair  of  boots,  made  of  leather 
such  as  patent-trunks  are  composed  of,  being  apparently  an  inch 
thick,  and  of  great  weight  as  well  as  size.  Beside  him  there  lay  ont  he 
table  an  old  black,  low-crowned,  broad-brimmed,  shapeless  nor'wester 
hat.  He  wore  spectacles,  and  was  examiniu'  yery  closely  the  mech- 
anism of  the  extended  prongs  of  the  "jigger.'^  He  was  mumbliu' 
to  himself,  a  sort  of  thinkin'  aloud. 

"  The  jints  work  nicely,"  said  he ;  "but  I  can't  make  them  catch 
and  hold  on  to  the  shoulder.     I  can't  work  that  pesky  snap."   '  •  • 

"I'll  show  you  how  to  fix  it,"  sais  I. 

He  turned  his  head  round  to  where  the  voice  came  from,  and 
looked  at  me  nearly  speechless  with  surprise  and  rage ;  at  last,  he 
jumped  up,  and  almost  putting  his  fist  in  my  face,  roared  out : 

"  Who  the  devil  are  you  ?  Where  do  you  come  from  ?  And 
what  do  you  want,  that  you  dare  poke  your  ugly  nose  in  here  un- 
asked arter  this  fashion  ?"  And  before  I  could  answer  he  went  on : 
"  Why  don't  you  speak,  you  holler-cheeked,  lanturn-jawed  villain  ? 
You  have  slack  enough  to  home,  I  know,  for  you  and  your  countrymen 
do  nothin  but  jaw  and  smoke  all  winter.  What  do  you  want  ?" 
said  he.  "  Out  with  it,  and  be  quick,  or  I'll  make  you  mount  that 
ladder  a  plaguey  sight  faster  than  you  come  down  it,  I  know  !" 

"Well,"  sais  I,  "as  far  as  I  know,  sittin'  is  about  as  cheap  as 
standin'  'specially  when  you  don't  pay  for  it,  so  by  your  leave  I'll 
take  a  seat." 

"  Do  you  hear  that,  Matey  ?"  said  he  ;  "  don't  +hat  take  the  rag 
off  the  bush  ?  Haint  these  Bluenoses  got  good  broughtens  up,  eh  : 
Confound  his  impudence  I"  and  he  rung  the  bell  "Come  here,  you 
curly-headed,  onsarcumsiaed  little  imp  of  midnight !"  said  he,  ad- 
dressin'  a  black  boy.  "  Bring  that  little  piece  of  rope-yarn  here  V 
G 


It 


frnmrn 


62 


OLD    BLOWHAUDh 


yv'i': 


K 


The  boy  trembled ;  he  saw  his  master  was  furious,  and  he  didn't 
know  whether  the  storm  was  to  burst  on  his  head  or  mine.  He  re- 
turned in  a  minute  with  one  of  the  most  formidable  instruments  of 
punishment  I  ever  beheld ;  and,  keeping  the  table  between  himself 
and  his  master,  pushed  it  towards  him,  and  disappeared  in  an  instant, 
it  was  made  of  rope,  and  had  a  handle  worked  in  one  eend  of  it, 
like  the  ring  of  a  door-key.  This  appeared  to  be  designed  for  the 
insertion  of  the  wrist ;  below  this  the  rope  was  single  for  about  four 
or  five  inches,  or  the  depth  of  a  hand,  which  had  the  effect  of  ren- 
dering it  both  pliable  and  manageable,  from  which  point  it  had  an- 
other piece  woulded  on  to  it. 

;  "  Now,  Sir,"  said  he,  "out  with  it;  what  do  you  want?"     •      >■ 
•'  f  "  Nothin',"  said  I,  quite  cool. 

"  Oh  no,  of  course  not ;  you  couldn't  eat  a  bit  of  supper,  could 
you,  if  you  got  it  for  nothin'  ?  for  you  look  as  lank,  holler,  and 
slinkey,  as  a  salmon,  jist  from  the  lakes  after  spawnin'  time,  a  goin* 
to  take  a  cruise  in  salt  water." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  since  you  are  so  pressin',  I  don't  care  if  I  do." 

"  Will  a  five  pound  piece  of  pork  and  a  peck  of  potatoes  do  you  ?" 
said  he,  a  rubbin'  of  his  hands  as  if  the  idea  pleased  him. 

'•  No  it  won't,"  sais  I,  "  do  at  all." 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  so.  Matey,"  said  he;  "these  long-legged,  long- 
necked,  hungry  cranes,  along  the  coast  here  are  jist  like  the  Ind- 
gians ;  they  can  take  enough  at  one  meal  to  last  'em  for  a  week. 
He  turns  up  his  nose  at  a  piece  of  pork,  and  wants  to  go  the  whole 
hog,  hay  ?  How  much  will  do,"  said  he,  "just  to  stay  your  appe- 
tite till  next  time  ?" 

"  A  biscuit  and  a  glass  of  water,"  sais  I. 

"  A  biscuit  and  a  glass  of  water,"  said  he,  lookin'  at  me  with 
utter  amazement ;  "  how  modest  we  are,  aint  we  ?  Butter  wouldn't 
melt  in  our  mouth,  if  we  had  got  any  to  put  there,  would  it  ?  A 
glass  of  water !  Oh  !  to  be  sure,  you're  so  cussed  proud,  lazy,  and 
poor,  you  can't  buy  rum,  so  you  jine  temperance  society,  inake  a 
merit  of  necessity,  and  gulp  down  the  fish  spawn,  till  you  have 
spoilt  the  fisheries.  Come  to  lectur'  on  it,  I  suppose,  and  then  pass 
the  hat  round  and  take  up  a  collection.  Is  there  anything  else  you 
want  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  there  is ;  but  I  might  as  well  go  to  a  goat's 
house  to  look  for  wool,  as  to  search  for  it  here;  and  that's  civil 
usage." 

"  Oh,  that's  the  ticket,  is  it  ?"  said  he.  "  You  first  of  all  force 
yourself  into  my  cabin,  won't  take  no  for  an  answer,  and  then  com- 
plain of  oncivility.  Well,  mister,  if  I  received  you  cold,  you'll  find 
this  place  too  hot  to  hold  you  long,  I  know.  I'll  warm  your  jacket 
for  you  before  I  start  you  out,  that's  a  fact  j"  and  seizin'  hold  of  the 
little  bit  of  ropeyarn — ^as  he  called  the  punisher — he  fitted  it  on  the 


^,       OtD    BLOWHARD, 


63 


lunst  of  his  right  hand,  and  stood  up  in  front  of  me,  with  the  look 
of  a  tiger.  "No  more  time  for  parley  now,"  said  he.  "Who  the 
devil  arc  you,  and  what  brought  you  here  ?     Out  with  it,  or  out  of 

'this  like  wink." 

"  I  am  Sam  Slick,"  sais  I. 


i  *.''  '''l*\i'^  ■; 


"  Sam  Slick !  Sam  Slick !"  said  he,  a  pronouncin'  of  the  words 
[slowly  arter  me.  •,       -  > 

"  /es,"  sais  I ;  "at  least,  what's  left  of  me." 

"  Matey,  Matey,"  said  he,  "  only  think  of  this !  How  near  I  was 
a  quiltin'  of  him  too  !  Sam  Slick !  Well,  who  in  the  world  would 
have  expected  to  see  you  a  visitin'  a  mackerel  schooner  away  down 
in  these  regions  arter  dark  this  way  ?  Well,  I  am  right  glad  to  see 
you.  Give  me  your  fin,  old  boy.  We  got  something  better  than 
fish  spawn  on  board  here,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh,  between  a  grunt 
and  a  chuckle,  that  sounded  like  a  gurglin'  in  the  throat.  "  Wo 
must  drink  to  our  better  acquaintance ;"  and  he  produced  a  bottle 
of  old  Jamaiky  rum,  and  called  for  tumblers,  and  some  sugar  and 
water.  "  You  must  excuse  our  plain  fare  here,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he  : 
"  we  are  a  rough  people,  work  hard,  fare  coarsely,  and  sleep  soundly. 
Tell  you  what  though,  Matey,  and,  by  Jove !  I  had  een  amost  for- 
got all  about  'cm,"  and  he  snapped  his  fingers  in  great  glee ;  "  we 
have  got  a  lot  of  special  fine  oysters  on  board,  raked  up  only  three 
days  ago  on  Prince  Edward  Island  flats.  Pass  the  word  for  old 
Satan."  When  {he  black  cook,  who  answered  to  this  agreeable 
name,  made  his  appearance  at  the  door,  the  Captin  said,  "  Satan,  do 
you  see  that  gentleman  ?"  * 

"Yes,  Massa." 

"  Well,  he  is  goin'  to  sup  with  us  this  evenin'.  Now,  off  with 
you  like  iled  lightnin',  and  pass  on  the  oysters  as  quick  as  wink, 
both  hot  and  cold." 

"  Yes,  Massa,"  said  the  black,  with  a  grin  that  showed  a  row  of 
beautiful  white  teeth,  that  a  London  dandy  or  a  Cuba  shark  might 
envy ;  and  then  I  heerd  him  say,  in  a  low  voice,  "  Ky !  what  de 
meanin'  ob  all  dis  ?  When  de  sun  shines  so  bright,  in  a  gineral 
way,  it's  a  wedder  breeder.  We  is  to  ab  a  storm  soon,  as  sure  as  de 
world." 

"  Come,  no  grumblin'  there,"  said  the  Captin.  "  Do  as  I  order 
you,  orril— " 

"  I  warn't  a  grumblin',  Massa,"  said  he  j  "I  despise  such  ouda- 
gious  conduct ;  I  was  only  sayin'  how  lubly  de  oleriferous  smell  of 
dat  are  rum  was.  It's  too  beautiful  to  drink ;  it  ought  to  be  kept 
for  smellin',  dat  are  a  nateral  fact."  *  ■ 

"  There,  take  a  glass,  and  be  off  with  you,"  said  the  mate.  "  Come, 
bear  a  hand  now." 

"  Taukce,  IMassa.  Oh,  golly !  dat  are  sublime  bebbcridge  I"  and 
he  retired  with    '^.octed  haste. 


V 


1^ 


TTTl 


i 

**  r  ' 

1 


\ 


•1  mi 


:ilill' 


I  lili 

I  ;       t      ll. ill   Mill 


PA  V 


64 


OLD    BLOWnABPD. 


/  • 


k 


"  Bear  me  !  Sam  Slick  I"  said  Blowhard,  "  ch !  well,  if  that  don't 
beat  all !  And  yet  somehow  you  hadn't  ought  to  have  taken  such  a 
rise  as  that  out  of  an  old  man  like  me ;  and  it  aint  safe  either  to 
tantalize  and  play  with  an  old  hear  that  hante  got  his  claws  cut.  I 
might  a  walked  into  you  afore  you  knowed  it ;  and  if  I  had  once  a 
begun  at  you,  I  shouldn't  a  heard  a  word  you  said,  till  I  had  dressed 
you  off  rail  complete.  I  dare  say,  you  will  make  a  capital  story  out 
of  it,  about  Old  Bloiohard;  but  I  think  I  may  sa-",  I'm  the  best- 
natur'd  man  in  the  world,  when  I  aint  riled ;  but  when  I  am  put  up, 
I  suppose  I  have  temper  as  well  as  other  folks.  Come,  here  are  tho 
oysters," 

Arter  a  while,  Blowhard  paused  from  eatin',  and  said  he,  "  Mr. 
Slick,  there  is  one  question  I  want  to  ask  you ;  I  always  thought,  if 
I  should  fall  in  with  you,  I  would  enquire,  jist  for  curiosity.  I  have 
read  all  your  stories ;  and  where  in  the  world  you  picked  them  all 
up,  I  don't  know;  but  that  one  about  'Polly  Coffin's  sand-hole,' 
(bein'  an  old  pilot  myself  on  this  everlastin'  American  coast),  tickled 
my  ftincy,  till  I  amost  cried  a  larfin.  Now,  hadn't  you  old  'Uncle 
Kelly'  in  your  eye  at  that  time  ?     Warn't  it  meant  for  him?" 

"  Well,  it  was,"  sais  I ;  "  that's  a  nateral  fact." 

"  Didn't  I  always  tell  you  so.  Matey  ?"  said  he.  "  I  knowed  it. 
It  stood  to  reason.  Old  Uncle  Kelly  and  Old  Blowhard  are  the  only 
skippers  of  our  nation  that  could  tell  where  they  were,  arter  that 
fashion,  without  a  gettin'  out  of  bed,  jist  lookin'  at  the  lead  that 
way.  It's  a  great  gift.  Some  men  excel  in  one  line,  and  some  in 
another.  Novif,  here  is  Matey — I  don't  think  he  is  equal  to  me  as  a 
pilot ;  he  aint  old  enough  for  that.  Nothin'  but  experience,  usin'  the 
lead  freely,  soundin'  a  harbour,  when  you  are  kept  in  it  by  a  head- 
wind or  a  calm,  dottin'  down  on  the  map  the  shoals,  and  keepin' 
them  well  in  mind,  will  make  you  way  wise.  He  can't  do  that  like 
me,  and  I  don't  know  as  he  has  a  genius  that  way ;  nor  is  he  equal 
to  me  as  a  fisherman.  The  fact  is,  I  won't  turn  my  back  on  any  man 
— Southerner,  Yankee,  or  Provincial — from  the  Cape  of  Varginy  to 
Labradore,  as  a  fisherman ;  and  though  I  say  it  who  shouldn't  say 
it,  there  aint  a  critter  among  them  all,  (and  it  is  generally  allowed 
on  all  sides  as  a  fact),  that  can  catch,  clean,  split  and  salt  as  many 
mackerel  or  cod  in  a  day  as  I  can.  That  too  is  a  sort  of  nateral  gift; 
but  it  tjikes  a  life  amost  to  ripen  it,  and  bring  it  to  perfection.  But 
as  a  seaman,  I'll  back  Matey  agin  any  officer  in  our  navy,  or  any 
captin  of  a  marchantman  that  hists  the  goose  and  gridiron  as  a  flag. 
It  would  do  you  good  to  see  him  handle  a  vessel  in  a  gale,  blowin' 
half  hurricane,  half  tornado,  on  a  lec-shore." 

"  Well,  never  mind  that  now,"  said  the  mate,  for  he  appeared  un- 
comfortable at  listenin'  to  the  soft  sawder ;  "  it's  nothin'  but  your 
kindness  to  think  so — nothin'  else." 

The  captain  proceeded : 


ftrr 


OLD    BLOWHARD. 


65 


to  me  as  a 


f} 


"  Where  was  you  last  Sunday  ?" 

"A  comin'  down  the  Sound,"  sais  I.  i .  -r'   •' 

"With  a  clear  sky,  and  a  smart  southerly  breeze?" 

"  Exactly,"  sais  I ;  "  and  it  fell  short  of  the  harbour  here. 

"  Just  so,  I  knowed  it ;  there  aint  two  gales  ever  at  the  same  time 
so  close  in  opposite  directions ;  one  kinder  takes  the  wind  out  of  the 
other's  sails.  Well.  Sunday  last  wo  was  a  comin'  round  Scattery 
Island,  cast  side  of  Cape  Briton,  when  we  were  cotched.  Creation, 
how  it  blew  !  'Capting !'  sais  Matey,  and  we  shook  hands,  'capting,' 
sais  he,  Tm  most  afeard  we  can't  come  it;  one  half  hour  at  most, 
and  we  shall  be  all  right,  or  in  dead  man's  land ;  but  there  is  no 
time  for  talk  now.  God  bless  you !  and  I  thank  you  with  all  my 
heart  for  all  your  kindness  to  me.'  The  critter  was  thinkin'  of  his 
mother,  I  suppose,  when  he  talked  that  nonsense  about  kindness. 

" '  Now  take  charge,  and  station  me  where  you  like.' 

" '  No,'  sais  I,  'your  voice  is  clearer  than  mine;  your  head  is  cool, 
and  you  talk  less,  so  stay  where  you  be.' 

" '  I'll  con  her  then,'  sais  he, '  and  you  must  steer.  Another  hand 
now  to  the  helm  with  the  capting.  That's  right,'  sais  he ;  '  stick  her 
well  up ;  gain  all  you  can,  and  keep  what  you  get.  That's  it.  Will 
the  masts  hold ?  '     '  '  "    -  '••• 

" '  I  guess  they  will,'  sais  I. 

" '  Then  we  must  trust  to  'em ;  if  they  go  we  go  with  'em.  Keep 
her  nearer  yet.  Well  done,  old  Eagle,'  said  he ;  '  you  aint  afeard  of 
it,  I  see.  She  is  goin'  to  do  it  if  she  holds  together,  capting.  Tight 
squeeze  tho',  there  aint  an  inch  to  spare ;  aint  she  a  doll  ?  don't  she 
behave  well  ?     Nearer  yet  or  we  are  gone — steady.' 

"  Oh  !  what  a  bump  she  gave !  it  jist  made  all  stagger  agin. 

" '  There  goes  twenty  feet  of  her  false  keel,'  sais  I,  a  jumpin'  up, 
and  a  snappin'  of  ray  fingers ;  '  that's  all  Scattery  wrackers  will  make 
out  of  the  '  Bald  Eagle'  this  trip,  and  they  want  that  to  keep  them 
warm  next  winter.  We  have  cleared  the  outer  ledge ;  we  are  all 
safe  now;  another  hand  to  the  wheel  here  in  my  place.  And, 
Matey,'  sais  I,  ^  let's  shorten  sail — alter  our  course — and  get  under 
the  lee  on  the  other  side.' 

"  It  was  an  awful  storm  that,  I  tell  you ;  and  it  would  have  been 
a  cryin'  sin  to  lose  such  a  seaman  as  that  in  a  common  fore  and 
after.  No,  this  is  our  last  trip — the  South  Sea  for  me — the  mackerel 
is  only  fit  for  boys  to  catch — the  whale  is  the  sport  for  a  man,  aint 
it,  Matey  ?  I  am  goin'  to  buy  a  whaler  when  I  return  home ;  he 
shall  be  my  capting,  and  command  the  ship.  I'll  take  charge  of  tho 
boats,  and  the  harpoon  will  suit  me  better  than  a  patent  jigger. 

'*  Yes,"  said  he,  "  all  the  damage  we  suffered  was  the  loss  of  about 
twenty  feet  of  false  keel.  We  ought  to  be  thankful  to  Providence 
for  that  marciful  escape;,  and  I  hope  we  are.  And  so  ought  you  to 
he  also,  Mr.  Slick,  for  you  come  plaguey  near  having  yourn  stripped 


I 

'  id 


-'         * 


J, 


Tjt.. 


66 


OLD    BLOWHARD. 


off  too  just  now,  I  tell  you.     But  stay  on  board  to-night.     Satan, 
make  a  bed  up  for  Mr.  Slick." 

"There's  just  one  plate  more,  Massa  Sam,"  said  Satan,  whose 
countenance  suddenly  lit  up  on  hearing  my  name.  "  Do  try  and  eat; 
I  is  sure  you  isn't  well,  Massa  Sam." 

"  Massa  Sam !"  said  the  captain  in  a  voice  that  might  be  heard  on 
the  island,  "  who  the  devil  do  you  call  Massa  Sam  ?  Matey,  that  is 
your  fault;  it  don't  do  to  talk  too  free  to  niggers ;  it  makes  them 
sarcy.   Clear  away  these  things,  and  clap  a  stopper  on  your  tongue." 

"  Yes,  Massa,"  said  the  negro,  who  edged  round,  and  got  the  table 
between  himself  and  his  master,  and  then  muttered :  "  I  taught  dere 
would  be  a  storm  soon;  I  said  intestinally  to  myself,  dis  was  a 
wedder  breeder."  Thinkin'  himself  safe,  he  said  again  :  "  Massa 
Sam,  how  did  you  leave  Miss  Sally  ?  Many  a  time  dis  here  nigga 
hab  carried  her  to  school  in  his  arms  when  she  was  a  little  pickauinie. 
Oh !  she  was  de  most  lubly  little  lady  dat  de  sun  eber  behold,  often 
as  he  had  travelled  round  de  circumference  ob  do  world." 

"  Why  who  the  plague  are  you?"  sais  I,  "  Satan,  Satan  ?  I  never 
heard  that  name  afore.     Who  are  you?" 

"  Juno's  son,  Sir !  You  mind,  massa,  she  was  always  fond  of  fine 
names,  and  called  me  Oll^andeT." 

"  Why,  Oleander,"  says  I,  "  my  boy,  is  that  you  ?"  and  I  held 
out  my  hand  to  him,  and  shook  it  heartily.  I  heard  Old  Blowhard 
inwardly  groan  at  this  violation  of  all  decency ;  but  he  said  nothin' 
till  the  man  withdrew.  '^  ; 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  sais  he,  "  I  am  astonished  at  you  shakin'  hands  with 
that  critter,  that  is  as  black  as  the  devil's  hind  foot.  If  he  was  a 
slave  you  might  make  free  with  him,  but  you  can't  with  these 
northern  free  niggers;  it  turns  their  head,  and  makes  them  as  forred, 
and  as  sarcy  as  old  Scratch  himself.  They  are  an  idle,  lazy,  good- 
for-nothin'  race,  and  I  wish  in  my  soul  they  were  all  shipped  off  out 
of  the  country  to  England,  to  ladies  of  quality  and  high  degree  there, 
that  make  such  an  everlastin'  touss  about  them,  that  they  might  see 
and  know  the  critters  they  talk  such  nonsense  about.  The  devil  was 
painted  black  long  before  the  slave  trade  was  ever  thought  of.  All 
the  abolition  women  in  New,  and  all  the  sympathisin'  ladies  in  Old 
England  put  together,  can't  make  an  Ethiopean  change  his  skin, 
A  nigger  is — a  nigger,  that's  a  fact." 

"Capting,"  sais  I,  "ranic  folly  is  a  loeed  that  is  often  found  in 
the  tall  rank  grass  of  fashion ;  but  it's  too  late  to-night  to  talk 
about  emancipation,  slavery,  and  all  that.  It  would  take  a  smart 
man  to  go  over  that  ground  from  daylight  to  dark,  I  know." 

"And  now,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  ''you  must  excuse  me;  I'm 
agoin'  to  turn-in.  Here  are  pipes  and  cigars,  and  old  Jamaiky,  and 
if  you  like  to  sit  up,  there  is  a  lad  (pointing  to  the  mate)  that  will 
just  suit.    You  have  seen  a  great  deal,  and  ho  has  read  a  great  deal, 


\    % 


ft    t  THE    WIDOW'S     SON. 


67 


and  you  aro  jist  the  boys  to  hitch  your  hosses  together,  I  know. 
iHere  is  to  your  good  health,  Mr.  Slick,  and  our  better  acquaintance," 
said  he,  as  he  replenished  and  emptied  the  glass;  "and  now  amuso 
yourselves.     Good  night."  * 

'     ■'-     y- '    ^'^y  ■    .    . 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE  WIDOW'S  SON. 


;an  ?  I  never 

i  fond  of  fine 


As  soon  as  the  Capting  went  into  his  little  state-room,  the  mate 
and  I  lighted  our  cigars,  drew  up  together  near  the  table,  so  as  not 
to  disturb  him,  and  then  had  a  regular  dish  of  chat  to  digest  the 
eysters. 

"I  owe  everything,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  "to  Blowhard.  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  him,  I  don't  know  what  on  earth  would  Lave  become 
of  my  poor  mother,  and  her  little  helpless  family." 

"Well,"  sais  I,  "friend,  you  have  the  advantage  of  me."     '  ^■'  ■ 

"How  so  T'  said  he.  •.  .i." 

"  Why,"  sais  I,  "  you  have  got  my  name,  and  you  know  who  I  ' 
be,  now  I  have  been  waitin'  to  hear  yourn  drop  from  the  Capting, 
so  as  to  pick  it  up,  and  get  on  without  asking  questions,  for  I  don't 
like  them  when  they  can  be  avoided ;  pray  what  might  it  be  ?" 

"Timothy  Cutler,"  said  he.     "  Our  folks  was  originally  Puritans 
of  the  old  school.     Well,  I  dare  say  you  have  heard  of  Timothy- 
Cutler,  President  of  Yale  College  ?" 

"  The  man  they  turned  out,"  sais  I,  "  because  he  became  an  Epis-  • 
copalian  ?" 

"The  same,"  said  he.  "Well,  he  was  my  great-grandfather. 
Artcr  he  quit  the  college,  he  sarved  an  English  Church  society  as  a 
missionary,  and  so  did  his  son  after  him,  till  the  close  of  the  revolu- 
tion :  and  my  father  was  a  church  clergyman,  too,  to  a  place  called 
Barnstable.  There  has  always  been  a  Timothy  Cutler  in  the  family. 
Well,  father  was  a  zealous,  pious  man,  and  mother  was  an  excellent 
manager;  and  although  they  were  poor  —  for  his  flock  was  small,  , 
most  o'  the  inhabitants  being  Congregationalists  there  —  still  they 
made  out  to  make  two  ends  meet,  and  to  keep  us  all  neat  and  tidy. 
Still  it  required  all  possible  economy  to  do  it.  Father  took  great 
pains  with  me,  every  leisure  hour  he  had,  for  he  couldn't  afford  to 
send  us  to  school,  and  was  preparing  me  for  college ;  and,  for  a  boy  of  • 
fourteen,  I  was  perhaps  as  good  a  scholar  as  there  was  in  Connecticut. 
It  was  arranged,  I  was  to  open  a  school  next  year,  under  his  care 


ti 


68 


THE    WIDOW'S    SON. 


and  sanction,  to  aim  money  for  tho  college  course.  Poor,  dear  mo- 
ther had  it  all  planned  out;  she  had  a  beautiful  vision  of  her  own 
in  her  mind,  and  believed  in  it  as  strong  as  her  Bible.  I  was  to  go 
thro*  Cambridge  with  honours,  become  a  great  lawyer,  go  tb  Con- 
gress, be  Secretary  of  State,  and  end  by  being  elected  President  of 
tho  nation ;  that  was  a  fixed  fact  with  her. 

"  Women,  Mr.  Slick,  especially  all  those  whose  mothers  live  to 
see  them  thro'  their  childhood,  are  religiously  inclined.  They  have 
great  faith,  as  they  ought  to  have,  in  the  goodness  and  bounty  of 
God,  and,  not  knowing  much  of  life,  have  perhaps  more  reliance 
J;han  is  just  altogether  safe  on  the  world,  and  what  it  is  able  or  willing 
to  do  for  them.  But  this  entire  hopefulness,  however,  this  strong 
conviction  that  all  will  be  right  in  the  end,  this  disposition  to  look 
on  the  sunny  side  of  life,  supports  them  in  all  their  trials,  carries 
them  thro'  all  their  troubles,  and  imparts  strength  equal  to  the 
weight  of  the  burden.  If  it  wasn't  for  this,  many  would  faint  in 
the  struggle,  and,  way-worn  and  weary,  sink  under  tho  despondin* 
influence  of  the  sad  heart-rending  realities  of  life.  It  was  this  made 
mother  happy  in<her  poverty,  and  cheerful  in  her  labours  and  pri- 
vations.    But  man  proposes,  and  Grod  disposes." 

^'  Hullo !"  sais  I  to  myself,  as  I  squared  round  to  take  a  better 
look  at  him,  "  here's  another  instance  of  what  I  have  often  obsarved 
in  life ;  there  are  stranger  things  in  reality  than  can  be  found  in  ro- 
mances. Who  on  airth  would  have  expected  to  have  seen  a  man 
like  this,  a  mate  of  a  fore-and-aft  mackerel  hooker,  and  a  companion 
of  Old  Blowhard.  He  was  about  two  or  three  and  twenty,  and  one 
of  the  handsomest  young  men  I  ever  saw,  modest,  but  resolute-look- 
ing, strong,  active,  well-built,  and  what  might  be  called  tho  model 
of  a  young  seaman." 

"  My  father,"  he  continued,  ^'  caught  a  violent  cold,  inflammation 
set  in,  and  he  died  suddenly.  What  an  awful  dispensation  of  Pro- 
vidence was  this  !  But  in  giving  you  my  name,  Sir,  I  have  no  right 
to  inflict  my  history  on  you.  Excuse  me,  Blr.  Slick,  but  these  feel- 
ins  have  been  pent  up  so  long,  that  they  found  vent  in  your  presence, 
unawares  to  myself." 

"By  no  means,  Mr.  Cutler,"  sais  I,  "go  on,  it  interests  me 
greatly.  You  have  nothin'  to  tell  me  you  need  be  ashamed  of,  I 
know." 

"  I  trust  not,"  he  said ;  "  but  my  object  was  rather  to  talk  of  Cap- 
tain Love  than  myself,  and  to  show  you  how  we  first  became  ac- 
quainted, and  what  he  has  done  for  me.  We  were  paupers,  literally 
paupers.  The  house  we  lived  in  belonged  to  the  congregation.  Our 
furniture  was  of  the  simplest  and  plainest  kind.  A  small  library, 
two  cows,  a  few  sheep,  and  a  pig  or  two,  constituted  all  our  worldly 
effects.  My  poor  mother  had  not  only  lost  her  husband,  friend,  pro- 
tector and  supporter,  but  all  her  bright  visions  of  promotion  and 


THE    widow's    BON. 


60 


f^-.^i.' 


'/:.-• 


prosperity  vanished  into  thin  air.  I  pa.s.^  over  tho  scone  of  distress, 
desolation,  and  sorrow,  in  that  house.  I  can't  think  of  it  even  now 
without  a  ahudder.  My  mother's  grief  wa.s  so  great,  I  thought  she 
would  have  speedily  followed  her  husband.  The  neighbours  were 
all  very  kind.  One  day  the  old  churchwarden,  .who  had  always  been 
attached  to  my  father,  dropt  in  and  *''ied  to  console  her;  but  the 
more  he  said,  the  faster  her  tears  flowcu. 

'^  At  last  ho  remarked  :  '  Madam,  do  you  recollect  the  words  of 
our  late  dear  pastor?  ^  He  who  takcth  away  a  parent^  is  able  and 
willing  to  send  friends.'  Now  I  have  wrote  to  an  old  acquaintance 
of  mine.  Captain  Love,  who  sails  in  two  or  three  days,  and  he  will 
take  Timothy  to  sea  with  him.' 

" '  As  what  V  said  mother,  lifting  up  her  head  and  wiping  her 
eyes.    *  As  what?     To  bring  him  up  as  what  ?'  ■:{'■:  ^ 

" '  As  kind  as  if  he  was  a  child  of  his  own.'       ^      ■  .    ,v, 

" '  Do  you  mean  as  a  'prentice  boy  ?' 

" '  No,  Marm ;  if  the  boy,  after  a  trip  or  two,  don't  like  it,  ho 
will  return.'  ,,.,  ,;.w^\~ 

" '  And  where  is  the  vessel  goin'  ?'  ..  ^    ,,,^  i .  /.-' 

" '  To  the  the  mackerel  fishery,'  said  he. 

"  Oh  1  what  an  expression  came  over  her  face  of  unutterable 
anguish.  '  What !  to  catch  and  salt  fish  ?  Has  it  come  to  this  ? 
Oh,  my  son  !  my  son !  it  must  not  tse  I' 

"  'But  it  must  be,'  said  he  kindly,  but  firmly.  '  Ho  must  do  his 
duty  in  that  line  of  life  in  which  it  shall  please  Providence  to  place 
him.' 

"'A  cabin-boy  on  board  a  mackerel-schooner,'  and  she  covered 
her  face,  and  sobbed  aloud. 

" '  Tim,'  said  he  addressing  me,  '  you  must  be  ready  to  start  in  the 
morning,  so  get  your  things  packed  up  ready,  and  I  will  drive  you 
to  the  Cape  myself  in  my  gig.  You  are  to  go  on  shares,  and  your 
share  will  support  the  family  at  home  a' most,  if  they  use  their  old 
economy.' 

"  The  necessary  exertion  to  equip  me,  amid  tears,  lamentations, 
apprehensions  of  sea  and  shipwreck,  did  her  good.  I  pass  over  the 
parting  scene.  The  old  warden  drove  me  to  the  Cape,  and  put  up 
his  horse  at  an  inn ;  and  then,  taking  me  with  him  to  the  wharf, 
pointed  out  to  me  the  vessel,  and  showed  me  the  person  I  was  to 
address  as  captain,  and  then  said  he  had  some  business  to  attend  to. 
So  taking  my  bundle  in  my  hand,  and  getting  out  the  letter  of 
introduction  he  had  furnished  me  with,  I  proceeded  on  board,  and 
went  to  the  afterpart  of  the  deck,  where  the  skipper  was.  He  was 
raving  like  a  madman,  something  had  gone  wrong  on  board,  and  he 
was  stamping  with  rage,  and  swearing  awfully.  I  think  I  may 
cafely  say,  that  was  almost  the  first,  last,  and  only  time  in  my  life  I 
was  terrified.     I  trembled  all  over.     Nursed,  trained,  and  educated 


■-\W^,i' 


^1 


■'  !  i 


\m\ 


'fi 


70 


THE    widow's    BON. 


In  a  clergyman's  house,  whoro  passion  was  never  seen,  noi^  oath 
beard,  you  may  well  imagine  my  horror.  Presently  his  eye  caught 
mo,  and  lie  gave  mo  the  .saino  sulutation  nearly  he  did  you. 

"  *  Ilullo  r  where  the  devil  did  you  come  from,  little  Broadcloth '( 
and  what  do  you  want  here  V 

"  '  Look  at  this,'  said  I,  '  please,'  handing  him  the  note. 

*' '  What,  another  bill !  I  thought  they  were  all  in  and  paid. 
This  is  from  that  old  cantin'  scoundrel,  "  Praise-the-Lord,"  the 
oheatin',  swindlin'  old  rascal.  He'll  never  give  over  his  tricks,  till 
I  use  up  his  yard-stick  over  him.  Oh  !'  said  he,  *  so  you  are  young 
Cutler,  are  you?'  and  all  his  manner  and  tone  of  voice  became 
altered  in  a  minute.  '  A  very  nice,  smart  little  boy ;  and  old  Hun- 
dredth, as  I  call  the  worthy  warden,  tells  me  you  are  a  very  good 
boy,  and  that's  better,  for  pretty  is  as  pretty  does.  Is  that  all  your 
traps  tiia*^^  you  have  in  that  bundle  ?' 

"  '  They  uint  traps.  Sir,'  said  I,  '  they  arc  clothes.  The  mink- 
traps,  and  otter-traps,  I  left  at  home,  with  brother  Jim.' 

"  Well,  he  fairly  roared  out  at  that ;  he  put  his  hands  on  his 
sides,  and  laughed  ag>^in  and  again.  It  made  me  colour  up  all  over, 
for  I  didn't  know  whav  I  had  said  out  of  the  way. 

"  'Well,  said  he,  a-pattin  me  on  the  shoulder  kindly,  "we  calls 
clothes  and  other  fixins  'traps'  here,  and  sometimes  'duds,'  for 
shortness.  I  don't  kn,)w,'  said  he,  half  to  himself,  'whether  it  aint 
better  jist  so.  Cutcness  comes  fast  enough,  and  when  cuteness 
comes,  then  comes  cunning,  and  cunning  brings  deceit,  and  that 
leads  to  suspicion  and  selfishness,  and  hardens  the  heart,  and  when 
the  heart  is  hardened,  we  are  only  fit  to  be  cut  up  for  bait.  Mink 
and  otter's  traps  !  Well,  that's  good.  Now,  son  Timothy,'  said  he, 
'come  below,  and  I'll  show  you  the  old  bear's  den,  and  then  the 
young  cub's  den.' 

"  '  I  should  like  to  see  a  bear,'  said  I,  '  for  I  never  saw  one  in  my 
life;  father  used  to  say  there  hadn't  been  one  near  Barnstable, 
within  the  memory  of  man.     Are  they  very  savage  ?' 

" '  The  old  one  is,'  he  replied,  laughing,  'as  savage  as  the  devil; 
he  is  growlin'  and  snarlin',  and  showin'  his  teeth,  all  the  time ;  the 
young  one's  claws  haint  growed  yet.  This  way,  my  lad,  follow  mc,' 
and  he  led  me  down  to  this  very  cabin.  '  Here's  where  we  grub,' 
said  he. 

"  '  Grub  what.  Sir  ?'  said  I,  a-lookin'  round  puzzled,  for  I  saw  no 
weeds,  and  no  tools. 

" '  Hard  biscuit,  hard  junk,  and  hard  salt-pork,  that's  grub,  ray 
boy;  and  the  great  secret  of  life  is  to  learn  to  earn  one's  grub.  Now 
here  is  where  the  old  bear  sleeps,'  opening  the  door  of  that  little 
st(ite-room,  'and  that's  mc;  and  there's  where  the  young  cub  sleeps,' 
pointing  to  another,  '  and  that's  you.  Now  go  in  there  and  stow 
away  your  traps,  while  I  give  some  orders  on  business.' 


V'      THE    widow's    son. 


71 


jait.     Mink 


"  lie  then  rang  the  bell,  and  '  Old  Satan,*  as  ho  called  him,  camo. 

« '  Come  hero,'  said  he,  trying  to  moderate  his  voice,  but  only 
making  it  inorc  dear,  and  more  audible,  so  that  1  could  i  ot  help 
hearing  what  ho  had  to  aay.  *  Did  you  see  that  boy  ?'  said  he. 
<■  Well,  do  you  understand  that's  inj/  son  ?  There's  no  occasion  to 
tell  him  or  any  one  else  that.  He  is  under  your  charge;  look  rj/ter 
him,  and  see  he  don't  get  into  scrapes,  and  that  no  one  imposes  on 
him.  If  anything  goes  wrong,  report  it  to  me.  Send  the  mate. 
Mr.  Pike,  when  shall  we  be  ready  for  sea  V 

"' First  wind.  Sir,  after  twelve  to-morrow.*  ''  "v'"i 

"  '  That's  right,  carry  on  with  all  your  force,  for  we  are  a-going  to 
have  a  line  run  of  it,  by  all  appearance."  , 

"<  I  rather  guess  sr,  I'oo,'  said  he.  "^  '     ' 

"  After  a  little  while  he  called  mo.  '  Timothy/  said  he,  *  como 
here.'  •     *' vr 

"'Yes,  Sir.' 

"  *  Get  your  hat.  and  go  ashore  with  me  to  '  Old  Praise-the-Lord.' 

"  He  set  my  teeth  a-jar  by  that  expression ;  it  was  irreverent.  I 
had  never  heard  such  language,  and  such  is  the  advantage  and  force 
of  early  training,  that  to  this  day  those  expressions,  though  my  ear 
is  hardened,  and  my  di'icacy  blunted  much,  are,  thank  God,  still 
offensive  to  me.  Hi  ^-^  'c  me  to  a  shop  filled  with  fish,  cheese, 
honey,  candles,  soap,  tobacco,  slop-clothing,  liquors  of  all  kinds,  and 
everything  that  is  requisite  to  fit  out  sailors  or  vessels.  It  smelt 
very  offensively,  and  looked  dirty;  the  air  was  so  foul  that  it  was 
manifest  all  the  ventilation  the  apartment  had  ever  received,  was  by 
the  door,  when  open. 

"As  we  entered,  a  small,  thin  man  emerged  from  behind  enor- 
mous coils  of  tarred  rope,  piled  one  on  top  of  the  other.  It  was 
Elder  Jedcdiah  Figg-  He  was  dressed  in  a  rusty  suit  of  black,  and 
wore  a  dirty  white  neckcloth,  tied  behind,  while  his  oily  hair  was 
brushed  down  straight  on  his  head  and  neck ;  he  had  a  very  sly,  but 
prim,  sanctimonious  appearance. 

"  '  Well,  brother  Jed,'  said  the  skipper,  '  how  are  you,  and  how's 
times  with  you  V 

"  '  Not  well,  not  well,  capting,  I  am  troubled  with  the  rheumatiz 
dreadful,  lately,  and  the  times  is  poor,  very  poor — praise  the  Lord.* 

"  '  Well,  you  have  reason  to  praise  him,  you  old  yaller  sadducee,' 
said  he ;  '  for  whoi  grasshoppers  are  so  plenty  as  to  mahe  the  pas- 
tures jjoor,  (/ohblcrs  f/row  fat.  Hard  times  is  what  you  thrive  in; 
when  the  ponds  dry  ^ip,  the  pohes  get  the  pollyioogs.  Here,  fit  out 
this  boy  with  a  complete  suit  of  oiled  cotton  water-proof,  a  pair  of 
thick  boots,  and  a  nor'-wester:  besides  these,  he'll  want  a  pea-jacket, 
four  flannel  shirts,  and  four  check  ones.  Put  these  into  a  sraaJl 
Bca-chest,  and  stow  away  in  it,  a  mate's  blank-book,  a  slate,  and  some 
paper  and  quills.     Send  it  aboard  to-night  by  six  o'clock.'  ,  •> 


■■•k 


m 


73 


THE    widow's    son. 


•■V 


\ 


,4m 


m 


,;!.;,,(. „|j 


m 


;  . "  '  Who  is  a-goin'  to  pay  for  'cm  ?'    ;  :^,>.  <' ,  >  •# 

'■■•v^J^  '  1  am/  said  the  captain.  "       ,•    .«,'  '  '*  / 

;,«  (j>raise  the  Lord/ said  Jedediah.  ,    , 

"  *  Don't  forge  ahead  that  way,  old  boy,  or  you  may  get  a-ground 
.,,  afore  you  know  where  you  be.     I'll  advance  the  money  for  his  mo- 
ther, and  she  is  as  poor  as  a  hen  partridge  that's  a  hatchia'  eggs.* 

"  *  Praise  the  Lord/  said  Jedediah.  ' 

"  ^  Now  let  me  see  the  bill  is  all  done  at  lowest  possible  cash 
price,  or  I'll  keep  the  goods,  and  let  you  fish  for  the  pay.' 

"  '  I'll  put  them  below  first  cost/  said  he,  '  I'll  lose  by  them  all  I 
can  afford.     Praise  the  Lord.' 

"'What  an  everlastin'  lie/  said  the  skipper,  'what  a  hypocrite 
-  you  bo,  Jed,'  returning  to  the  counter ;  '  if  ever  you  dare  to  talk  to 
me  that  way  agin,  I'll  flay  you  alive.  I  shouldn't  mind  your  rippin' 
out  an  oath  or  two  now  and  then,  for  thunder  will  hurst,  and  it 
el  ;ars  the  air — tho'  swearin''  is  as  well  let  alone,  when  j  ou  can  help 
it  —  but  cantin',  whynin',  textin',  and  psalmin',  when  a  man  means 
trickery  —  oh  !  it's  the  devil !' 

"I  didn't  sleep  much  that  night;  I  was  home-sick  and  heart-sick. 
Two  things  troubled  me  greatly,  upon  which  I  wanted  explanation. 
The  first  was,  he  claimed  to  bo  my  father.  Why  was  the  secret  kept 
from  me  ?  Secondly,  he  bought  all  this  outfit  at  my  mother's  ex- 
pense, and  spoke  very  disrepectfully  of  her,  say  in'  she  was  as  poor 
as  an  old  hen  partridge.  What  mystery  is  this  ?  I  resolved  when 
I  saw  the  warden  to  open  my  heart  to  him.  So  as  soon  as  I  got  up 
I  asked  leave  to  go  and  see  him. 

"Yes,'  said  he,  'go  and  welcome,  but  bo  back  by  ten  o'clock,  for 
we  shall  sail  at  one,  and  you  must  learn  how  a  vessel  is  got  under 
way.     Have  you  got  any  money  in  your  pocket  V 

"'No,  Sir.' 

" '  Do  you  want  any  ?' 

" 'No,  Sir;  I  never  had  any,  and  have  no  use  for  it.' 

" '  That's  right,  be  prudent,  and  never  be  under  an  obligation  to 
anybody;  and  above  all  things,  always  speak  the  truth,  your  word 
must  be  your  bond  through  life.  Well,'  sais  he,  '  we  always  advance 
to  the  hands  for  outfit,  if  they  want  it.  Here  are  two  dollars,  on 
account  of  your  share  of  the  airnings,  and  if  you  don't  want  nothin', 
buy  some  little  things  that  your  mother  likes,  and  let  Old  Hundredth 
take  them  to  her.  Always  remember  her  after  every  cruise ;  you 
must  support  that  family  at  present.     Now,  make  tracks.' 

"  Well,  his  words  sunk  deep  into  my  heart,  especially  what  he  said 
about  truth.    '  Then  this  man  is  my  father,'  said  I ;  and  I  went  sor- 
rowing on  my  way. 
^  "  The  warden  was  alone  at  breakfast  when  I  entered. 

" '  Mr.  Chase,*  said  I,  '  who  is  Captain  Love,  is  he  any  relation  of 
mine  V 


1:  \fM\ 


i."^'    THE 


widow's  son. 


73 


"  Not  that  I  know/  said  he,  *  I  never  heard  of  it.     But  why  do 

I  vou  ask  ?' 

«  Well,  I  repeated  to  him  all  the  conversation  I  had  heard  between 
I  him  and  the  cook,  and  told  him  how  distressed  1  was  at  it. 

''  Oh/  said  he,  '  that  was  an  expression  of  kindness,  that's  all ; 
I  you  know  it  is  figurative  language.' 

"  I  then  told  him  the  story  of  the  outfit,  and  the  way  he  spoke  of 
I  my  mother. 

"  <  He  has  no  discretion  in  his  talk  sometimes,'  said  the  warden, 
^but  he  was  joking  only.  Figg  understood  that,  it's  a  present  to 
I  you,  only  he  didn't  want  to  be  bothered  with  thanks.  Behave  well, 
Timothy.  That  man  is  able  and  willing  to  serve  you,  he  has  taken 
a  fimcy  to  you.  I  think  your  father  rendered  him,  many  years  ago, 
an  important  service,  without  inconveniencing  himself.  He  rejerred 
to  somcthin'  of  the  kind  in  his  letter  to  me,  when  I  applied  to  him 
[to  take  you,  but  I  don't  know  what  it  was.'  '-' 

'^ '  Well,  here's  the  two  dollars.  Sir,'  said  I,  *  will  you  give  them 
j  to  ray  mother,  with  my  love  V 

"  *  No,'  said  he,  '  anybody  can  send  money ;  but  you  must  not 
[only  do  that,  but  take  trouble  besides:  it's  very  grateful,  such  little 
attentions.     ]5uy  something  for  her — tea,  coffee,  and  sugar,  how 
Iwould  that  do?'  .  ,-, 

"There  aint  a  spoonful  in  the  house.^ 

" '  Then  we'll  get  them ;  give  me  the  money,  and  I'll  go  to  an  old 
I  parishioner  of  your  father's  that  will  be  glad  to  make  the  two  dol- 
lars do  four  dollars'  work.     Now  good-bye,  my  boy,  take  care  of  your 
|coiiduct,  and  depend  upon  it  Providence  will  take  care  of  you.' 

"  The  second  day  after  we  sailed.  As  we  sat  to  dinner,  '  Tim,' 
|sais  he,  '  do  you  know  what  a  log  is,  and  how  many  kinds  there  be.' 
" '  Two,  Sir,'  sais  I ;  '  there's  the  back  log  and  the  back  stick.' 
" '  Creation,'  said  he,  *  I  wonder  if  ever  I  was  as  soft  as  that,  I 
Idoii't  believe  it  as  far  as  I  can  remember;  sartainly  not  since  I  was 
kuee  high,  at  any  rate.  A  log  is  a  ship's  journal,  my  son,  the  mate 
keeps  it,  and  you  must  copy  it,  there  is  a  book  in  your  chest  for  the 
purpose,  it  will  show  you  that  part  of  his  duty.  Now,  do  you  know 
I  what  throwing  a  log  is  ?' 

" '  I  suppose  it  means  when  you  have  no  further  use  of  it,  throw- 
ling  it  overboard.' 

" '  Well,  you  were  not  so  far  out  that  time.    It  is  a  small  piece  of 

ht-o«(^*  attached  to  a  line,  which  is  thrown  overboard,  when  the  vessel 

is  going,  and  this  line  has  knots,  each  of  which  denotes  a  mile,  and 

that  is  tbrowin'  the  log,  and  settin'  down  these  distances  is  called 

Ikcepin'  the  log.    Now,'  said  he,  <  make  yourself  master  of  the  names 


•  ». 


i 


('  ,'- 


*  First  called  a  loff  in  Ireland. 


WP 


■1 


74 


THE    widow's    son. 


of  the  ropes,  and  spars,  and  riggin',  and  all  sea  tarms;  but  never  ask 
a  man  that's  busy,  and  never  talk  to  the  man  at  the  helm.' 

"I  mention  these  little  things,  not  that  there  is  any  intrinsic 
interest  in  them,  but  to  show  you  how  minute  his  kindness  has  been. 
We  were  five  weeks  gone.  On  my  return  he  sent  me  to  see  my 
mother,  and  sent  her  a  cheque  for  fifty  dollars,  for  what  he  called  my 
share. 

"  *  Fetch  your  books  when  you  come  back,'  sais  he,  '  with  you,  all 
kinds,  Latin  and  Greek  that  you  did  lam,  and  travels  and  voyages 
that  you  hante  lamed,  and  improve  your  mind.  You  cant  larn  too 
much,  if  you  don't  larn  tricks.' 

"  In  this  way  I  have  gone  on  ever  since,  always  receiving  far  more 
than  my  share  for  my  services  j  and  now  I  am  to  be  advanced  to  the 
command  of  a  whaler.  I  have  neglected  no  opportunity  according 
to  his  advice,  of  acquiring  information,  and  continuing  my  study  of 
languages.  I  put  James  thro'  Cambridge,  and  he  has  removed  to 
Boston,  where  he  is  just  about  commencing  law.  Mother  has  had 
her  schemes  of  ambition  all  revived  in  him.  He  took  a  degree  with 
honours ;  he  promises  to  make  a  figure  at  the  bar ;  and  she  thinks 
those  other  prizes  in  the  lottery  of  life — a  seat  in  Congress,  a  secre- 
taryship, and  the  presidential  chair,  are  held  in  store  yet  by  Provi- 
dence for  the  Widow's  Son." 


CHAPTER  VII. 


I  ..ii 


THE    LANGUAGE    OF    MACKEEEL. 

The  next  mornin',  just  at  the  early  dawn  of  day,  I  heard  the  Cap- 
ting  jump  out  of  bed,  and  as  I  don't  like  to  be  caught  nappin',  I 
outs  too,  puts  my  clothes  on  as  quick  as  wink,  and  gets  into  the  cabin 
before  he  and  the  mate  made  their  appearance.  I  sat  down  to  the 
table,  took  up  his  "patent  jigger,"  to  see  if  I  could  contrive  the 
"snaps''  for  it;  and  was  a-workin'  it  upwards  and  downwards  to  see 
what  it  wanted,  when  he  came  in. 

"  What,  up  already  ?"  said  the  Captain.  "  Well,  you  are  a  raol 
New  Englander,  for  'Yankees  and  weasels  aint  often  caught  nap- 
pin.'  " 

^'■'  ICs  the  early  hird  that  gets  the  ^oorm/  Capting,"  sais  I. 

"Exactly,"  sais  he,  "and  so  it  is  with  the  macarel  catch  too;  it's 
first  come  first  served  in  the  fisheries.  But,  Matey,  let's  go  on  deck 
and  see  what  chance  there  is  of  a  wind." 

"  It's  a  dead  calm,"  said  he,  when  ho  returned,  "  and  there  will 


THE  LANGUAGE  OF  MACKEREL. 


75 


bo  no  breeze  until  twelve  o'clock  j  and  then,  if  it  does  come,  it  will 
be,  as  fair  as  it  can  blow,  east  south-east  half-east;  it's  like  the  crew, 
late  a-gcttin'  up  to-day ;  but  it  vill  be  along  here  byine  byc.'^ 

^'Captiug,"  sais  I,  "I  have  got  it.  You  know  I  am  a  clock- 
nialier,  and  know  a  little  about  Machinery?"  ,    ■  .  ■  ,,.?;. 

"AVhat  the  plague  don't  you  know  something  about,  Mr.  Slick?" 
said  be. 

^'Well,"  sais  I,  "1  don't  k;iow  much  about  anything,  that's  a 
ract,  for  I'm  a  sort  of  Jack  of  all  trades,  and  msster  of  none ;  but  , 
I  have  some  wrinkles  on  my  horn  for  all  that,  for  I  warn't  born  yes- 
terday." 

^'l  guess  not,"  said  he,  "nor  the  first  flood  tide  before  that 
neither." 

"  Looke  here,  Capting,"  sais  I,  and  I  pulled  the  cord  and  drew 
up  the  arms  of  the  jigger j  "i.ow,"  sais  1,  "put  a  spring  on  the 
shank,  on  the  back  of  the  centra.',  bar,  exactly  like  the  springs  of  an 
umbrella,  with  the  same  sort  of  groove  for  it  to  play  in,  as  the  handle 
of  that  has,  and  the  jigger  is  complete." 

"I  see  it,"  sais  he,  jumpin'  up  and  snappin'  his  fingeiK..  "I  see 
it,  it's  complete ;  it's  rael  jam  up  that.  That's  a  great  invention, 
Mr.  Slick,  is  that  jigger,  that  and  my  bait-cutter,  and  the  dodge  I 
discovered  of  makin'  the  macarel  rise  to  the  surface,  and  follow  me 
Hkc  a  pack  of  dogs,  will  cause  old  Blowhard's  name  to  be  remem- 
bered as  long  as  the  fisheries  are  carried  on.  I'll  explain  that  dodge 
to  you.  You  know  we  can't  fish  lawfully  within  three  leagues  of 
the  shore.  Well,  the  macarel  i.re  chiefly  inside  of  that,  and  there 
they  be  as  safe  as  a  thief  ia  a  mill.  The  Bluenoses  are  too  ever- 
lastin'  lazy  to  catch  'em,  and  wc  can't  get  at  'em  without  the  risk  of 
being  nabbed  and  losin'  vessel  and  all.  So  I  set  my  wits  a  thiukin', 
and  I  invented  a  bait-cutter  j  see,  here  is  one,"  and  he  opened  a 
locker  and  took  out  a  box  fitted  with  a  handle  like  a  coftee-mill,  and 
having  a  cylinder  stuck  full  of  .sharp  blades,  that  cut  the  bait  with 
rapidity  and  ease  into  minute  particles.  "  Now,"  sais  he,  "  I  just 
sails  along  in  shore  like — for  there  is  no  harm  in  that,  as  long  as  you 
don't  fish  there  —  and  throw  the  bait  over,  and  the  fish  rise  to  the 
surface,  and  follow  me  to  the  i 'ght  distance ;  and  then  we  at  'em, 
and  in  with  'em  like  wink.  I  have  sailed  afore  now  right  alongside 
of  a  great  long  seine,  and  taken  the  whole  shoal  away.  Creation  ! 
how  Bluenose  used  to  stare  when  he  seed  me  do  that !  One  of  'em 
came  on  board  the  '  Old  Eagle '  onct,  and  said  he,  '  Oh !  Capting, 
how  on  airth  do  you  raise  the  fisti  from  the  bottom  that  way,  when 
no  human  bein'  could  tell  there  was  one  there.  I'll  give  you  a  hun- 
dred dollars  for  that  are  secret,  c  ish  down  on  the  nail.' 

"Well,  you  know  it  wouldp't  do  to  sell  secrets  to  benighted 
foreigners  that  way,  it  wi)uld  make  them  grow  kind  of  sarsy.  So  I 
always  try  to  put  'em  o£f;  and  nt  the  same  time  take  a  rise  out  of 


iff 

It 


■■^>*^i-:. 


,-r,wi 


76 


THE  LANOUAGE  OP  MACKEREL. 


\ 


'em.  So,  saia  I, '  friend,  it  would  be  a  sin  and  a  shame  to  take  your 
property  for  nothin'  that  way ;  it  would  bo  as  bad  as  your  wreckers 
about  your  sow-sow- west  shore.  It's  a  simple  thing,  and  I'll  'tell  it 
to  you  for  nothin'.'  ,  v~ .  ^ ^  c 

" '  Captain,'  sais  the  critter,  lookin'  wide  awake  for  once,  and  so 
excited  as  actilly  to  take  his  hands  out  of  his  trousers'  pockets,  where 
he  had  kept  'em,  since  the  week  afore,  except  at  meal-hours  and  bed- 
time, out  of  pure  laziness,  *now  that's  what  I  call  clever,  and  I 
don't  mind  if  I  go  below  and  take  a  glass  of  grog  with  you  on  the 
strength  of  it.'  And  one  thing  I  must  say  for  the  critters,  if  they 
are  lazy — and  there's  no  denyin'  that  —  they  ain't  bashful ;  that's  a 
Yankee  word  they  never  heard  on. 

" '  Well,'  sais  I,  '  I  ought  to  have  thought  of  that  myself,  that's  a 
fact.  Come  let's  go  below,  for  I  don't  want  everyone  to  hear  it,  if 
it  is  so  simple.'  Well,  I  takes  him  into  the  cabin,  shuts  to  the  door, 
places  the  liquor  on  the  tabic,  ipd  draws  up  close,  to  be  confidential. 
*  Take  a  pull  at  that  are  pariicaiur  old  Besting  domestic  rum,'  sais  I. 
'  It's  some  I  keep  on  purpose  for  treating  them  gentlemen  to,  Mr. 
Slick;  it's  made  of  the  lye  of  wood-ashes,  sweetened  with  molasses, 
and  has  some  vitriol  in  it,  to  give  it  spirit;  it's  beautiful  stuflF  for 
them  that  likes  it.  It's  manufactored  by  that  pious  old  rascal, 
'  Praise-the-Lord.'  The  old  villain  got  the  other  distillers  at  the 
Cape  to  jine  the  temperance  society  with  him,  so  as  to  have  things 
his  own  way,  and  then  sot  to  a  brewin'  this  stuff;  and  when 
hauled  over  the  coals  for  sellin'  liquor,  sais  he,  *It's  neither  rum, 
nor  brandy,  nor  gin,  nor  whiskey,'  and  so  he  ran  on  through  the 
whole  catelogue  that's  in  their  oaths,  '  nor  distilled,  nor  farmented 
liquors,  nor  anything  tetotallized  agin,  but  just  an  anti-cholic  cordial, 
praise  the  Lord  I' 

"  <  Capting,'  sais  Bluenose, '  that's  the  rael  thing,  that  are  a  fact. 
It  ain't  reduced.  What  we  buy  along  shore  here  is  half  water  and 
half  rum,  and  scarcely  that;  we  are  so  cheated  by  them  that  gets 
our  fish.     It's  pee-owerful,  that's  sartain.' 

"  '  Pee-owerful,'  sais  I,  '  I  guess  it  is ;  it  wouldn't  take  much  of 
that  to  give  weak  eyes  and  a  sore  throat,  I  can  tell  you.  Fire  will 
burn,  unless  you  keep  it  down  with  water.' 

" '  Well,'  sais  he,  '  ain't  you  agoin'  to  drink  yourself?* 

"*I  guess  not,'  sais  I;  'I  don't  calculate  in  a  general  way  to 
drink  except  at  meal-times.' 

"'What,'  said  he,  'don't  you  take  a  mornin'  facer?' 

" '  No.' 

" '  Nor  an  appetizer  ?' 

"'No.' 

"'Nor  a  better  luck  still?' 

"'No.' 

" '  Well,  well !'  sais  he,  ^  if  that  don't  pass,  an5  you  all  the  time 


THE  LANGUAGE  OP  MACKEREL. 


77 


rum/  sais  I. 


having  it  standin'  so  invitin'  alongside  of  you  in  the  locker !    You 
tie  the  uight-cap  though  sometimes,  don't  you?'..  :'•  ^:''-^iJ^'.,:i^.-^^,/K- 

"'Sometimes  I  do/  sais  I,  'when  I  think  on  it,  but  I  forget  it 
as  often  as  not.  Now/  sais  I, '  I'll  tell  you  the  secret/  for  I  got  tired 
of  this  long  lockrum  about  nothin' ;  ' but/ ^ais  I,  'before  I  give  it  to 
you,  will  you  promise  me  you  will  try  it?'  ,'■'.#'  .7 ■..•:•  k:.;":-i;™v 

" '  Oh  yes/  sais  he,  '  I  will,  and  only  be  too  glad  to  try  it/ 

"  '  Will  you  try  it  at  onct/  sais  I,  '  so  that  I  can  see  you  onder- 
Btand  how  to  go  about  it  ?' 

"'I  will/  sais  he.  "  -  ■     *    -"        -  -•  •  •    i-"  ^-i  ^^  -^  y-:^..... 

"  Well,  that  being  settled,  we  shook  hands  on  it,  and,  sais  I :  'v >. 

"'There  is  nothin'  easier  in  natur'.  Get  into  a  diver's  suit,  be 
let  down  gently  in  among  the  mackerel,  and  larn  their  lingo ;  and 
then  you  can  call  them,  and  they'll  follow  you  like  dogs.  I  soon 
picked  it  up:  it's  very  easy/  ..?i; 

"' What !  fish  talk  ?' sais  he.  'Come,  I  aint  quite  so  green.  Who 
ever  heard  the  like  o'  that,  as  fish  talkin'  ?' 

" '  Aye,  my  man,'  sais  I,  '  and  larfin'  too.  Did  you  ever  see  a 
ripplin'  on  the  water  like  air-bubbles,  when  a  shoal  of  fish  rises  ?' 

" '  Often,'  sais  he.     '  The  water  bubbles  "up  like  beer  in  a  tumbler/ 

"'Well,'  sais  I,  'that's  the  fish  a  larfin'  at  some  odd  old  fellow's 
story.  I  never  would  have  thought  it  possible  they  were  such  a 
merry  set,  if  I  hadn't  a  seen  it  with  my  own  eyes,  and  the  fondest 
of  a  joke  you  ever  see.  They  are  a  takin'  a  rise  out  of  some  young 
goney  now,  depend  upon  it,  judgin'  by  the  bubbles  there  is  on  the 
water.  Onct  when  I  was  down  among  them,  they  sent  a  youngster 
off  to  invite  a  cod  to  come  and  sup  with  them.  As  soon  as  the  old 
fellow  saw  him,  out  he  goes  to  meet  him,  gallows  polite,  and  swal- 
lers  him  down  like  wink.  Creation  !  how  the  whole  shoal  larfed  at 
the  way  the  goney  was  sold/ 

" '  Well,  well !'  sais  he,  '  that  beats  all,  that's  a  fact.  Fish 
talkin' !     Is  it  possible  ?' 

'"Don't  you  know  that  crows  talk?'  sais  I. 

" '  Well,'  sais  he,  '  I  do.  I've  seen  that  myself.  Many  a  long 
day  I've  laid  down  in  our  pasture,  a-stretched  out  at  full  length,  a 
watchin'  the  vessels  pass,  and  obsarvin'  the  action  of  the  crows.' 

" '  Hard  work  that,  warn't  it?'  sais  I. 

" '  Well,'  sais  he,  '  if  you  was  made  to  do  it,  I  suppose  it  would 
be-;  but  I  liked  it,  and  what  you  like  aint*  hard.  I'll  just  help 
myself  to  a  little  more  of  that  cordial,  for  I  like  it  too.  Well,  I 
have  heard  the  crows  talk  to  each  other,  and  seen  them  plant  sentries 
out  when  they  seed  me  a  watchin'  of  them,  and  once  I  actilly  saw 
thera  hold  a  court-martial.  The  old  veterans  came  from  all  the  ports 
about  here,  and  from  all  the  islands,  and  bluffs  and  shores,  up  and 
down;  and  the  culprit  hung  his  head  down,  and  looked  foolish 
enough,  you  may  depend.  What  he  had  done,  I  don't  know.  Whe- 
7* 


\ 


ri' 


78 


THE  LANGUAGE  Of  MACKERl-L. 


k 


i'M  I  ' 


I: 


ther  lie  had  run  off  with  another  crow's  wife,  or  stole  a  piece  of  meat, 
or  went  to  sleep  when  he  was  on  guard,  or  what,  I  don't  know,  but 
artcr  consultin'  together,  they  turnrl  to  and  fell  on  him,  and  killed 
him,  and  then  adjourned  the  court  ^nd  dispersed ;  that's  a  natural 
fact.  And  now  wo  are  on  the  subjeci,'  said  he,  'I'll  tell  you  another 
thing  I  once  seed.  There  were  soma  seals  used  to  come  ashore  last 
summer  at  my  place,  sometimes  singly,  and  sometimes  in  pairs. 
Well,  at  that  time  I  was  out  of  powder;  and  I  don't  know  how  it  is 
with  you,  Capting,  but  it  seems  to  me  i^iien  I  get  out  of  things,  that's 
the  very  identical  time  I  wants  'em  most.  Well,  the  store  is  a 
matter  of  two  miles  off,  and  I  was  waitin'  for  some  of  my  neighbours 
to  be  a  goin'  that  way  to  send  for  some,  so  I  had  an  opportunity  to 
watch  them  several  days,  and  it's  a  natural  fact,  I'm  going  to  tell 
you.  Them  and  the  gulls  kind  of  knocked  up  an  acquaintance  con- 
siderable intimate.  Well,  at  last  the  powder  came,  and  I  loaded  my 
gun  and  sneaked  along  on  all-fours  to  get  a  shot  at  a  fellow  that  was 
dozin'  there ;  and  just  as  I  got  to  about  the  correct  distance,  what 
do  you  think  ?  a  cussed  gull  that  wa;3  a  watchin'  of  me,  guessed  what 
I  was  about,  scud  off  to  the  seals  like  wink,  and  gave  such  a  scream 
in  the  critter's  car  as  he  sailed  over  him,  that  he  jumped  right  up 
with  fright,  and  goes  kerwallop  head  over  ears  into  the  water  in  no 
time ;  that's  a  nateral  fact.' 

" '  Why,  in  course,'  sais  I,  '  there's  a  voice  in  all  natur'.  Every- 
thin'  talks  from  a  woman  down  to  a  crow,  and  from  a  crow  to  a 
mackerel.     I  believe  your  story  of  the  crows.' 

"  '  I'll  swear  to  it,'  sais  he. 

"'You  needn't  swear  to  it,'  sai?  I;  ^I  believe  it,  and  besides  I 
never  swear  to  any  o'  my  stories ;  it  makes  swearin'  too  cheap.' 

"'Well,'  sais  he,  'seein'  that  crews  talk,  I  believe  that  story  of 
the  fish  too;  it  must  be  so,  else  \io\,-  could  they  all  keep  together? 
but  I  must  say  it's  the  strangest  story  I  ever  heard  since  I  was  born, 
and  opened  my  ears  and  heard.    It  does  sound  odd,  but  I  believe  it.' 

" '  Well  then  take  another  drop  of  that  cordial,  for  you  might  feel 
cold.' 

"  <  Oh,  no !'  said  he,  '  I  don't  feel  cold  a  bit.' 

"'But  you  might  by  and  bye,'  sajd  I;  but  the  critter  didn't  see 
what  I  was  at. 

" '  Gome  let's  go  on  deck,'  sais  I ;  *  and  John  Brown,'  sais  I, 
'  bring  up  the  diveu'  dress.  Jim  Lynch,  fetch  the  leads,  and  fasten 
them  on  to  this  gentleman's  feet;  and  do  you  hear  there,  Noah 
Coffin,  reave  an  inch-rope  through  tLo  eye  of  the  studden-sail-boom 
— be  quick — bear  a  hand  there;  we  ire  just  on  the  right  spot.' 

" '  For  what  ?'  said  Blue-nose. 

" '  For  puttin'  you  into  the  divin'  dress  and  throwen  you  overboard 
to  larn  your  first  lesson,  in  the  madtetel  language' 

a  I  Why,  capting,'  sais  he,  a-edjin'  off  slowly,  and  his  eyes  glazen, 


THE  LANGUAGE  OP  MACKEREL. 


79 


like  a  wild  cat  that's  a  facin'  of  the  dogs ;  '  why,  capting,  you  aint 
agoin'  to  force  me  whether  I  will  or  no/ 

" '  That's  the  bargain/  sais  I.  '  Bear  a  hand,  boys,  and  see  if 
you  aint  overboard  in  no  time.' 

"  I  took  one  step  forward,  as  if  about  to  catch  him,  when  he  put 
a  hand  on  the  tafirail,  sprang  into  his  boat,  and  pushed  off  in  a 
minute,  and  rowed  ashore  like  mad. 

«  Wliat  a  pity  it  is,  Mr.  Slick,  that  such  a  fine  race  of  men  as 
these  Nova  Scotians  should  be  so  besotted  by  politics  as  they  are. 
They  expect  England  to  do  every  thin'  for  'em,  build  railroads,  and 
canals,  and  docks,  and  what  not,  and  then  coax  them  to  travel  by 
them,  or  use  them,  while  they  lay  in  the  field,  stretched  out  at  full 
length,  and  watch  crows  like  that  chap,  or  bask  in  the  sun  day  arter 
day,  and  talk  about  sponsible  government,  and  rail  agin  every 
sponsible  man  in  the  colony.  But  that's  their  look  out,  and  not 
cum,  only  I  wish  they  would  improve  the  country  better  before  we 
come  and  take  it. 

"  Now,  ril  show  you  the  use  of  that  ere  jigger.  A  man  who 
goes  a-fishin'  should  know  the  habits  (jnd  natur'  of  the  fish  he  is 
after,  or  he  had  better  stay  to  home.  AH  fish  have  different  habits, 
and  are  as  much  onlike  as  the  Yankees  and  Blue-noses  be.  Now 
there  is  the  shad,  I  believe  they  have  no  ears,  for  they  don't  mind 
noises  a  bit ;  and  when  a  feller  is  hard  a-hearin',  we  say  he  is  as 
deaf  as  a  shad  j  but  they  see  well,  and  you  can't  catch  'em  easy 
enough  with  the  hook  to  make  it  worth  while.  Now  the  mackerel 
don't  see  very  plain.  There's  a  kind  of  film  comes  on  Iheir  eyes  in 
winter  that  makes  them  half-blind,  and  then  drops  ofi*  as  summer 
comes.  Natur',  to  counteract  it,  has  made  their  hearin'  very  cute, 
and  their  infirmity  of  sight  makes  them  very  shy  and  timid-like.  I 
have  actilly  seen  a  shoal  of  them  when  they  have  got  into  an  inlet, 
kept  there  by  two  or  three  boats  stationed  at  the  entrance,  with  the 
crew  in  'em  a-splashin'  in  the  water  with  their  oars.  The  moment 
they  heard  that,  down  they  went  to  the  bottom,  and  stayed  there 
until  they  were  all  scooped  out  with  nets — fact,  I  assure  you. 

"  Now  the  use  of  that  jigger  will  be  when  the  fish  are  brought  up 
to  the  surface,  it  can  be  let  into  the  water  easy  without  frightenin' 
of  them;  and  when  it's  drawn  up,  its  arms  will  be  full  of  fish. 
These  are  things  that  must  be  studied  out.  Every  created  critter 
has  an  instinct  for  self-preservation.  If  you  would  catch  them,  you 
must  set  your  reason  to  work ;  and  as  that  is  stronger  than  instinct, 
if  you  go  the  right  way  about  it,  you  will  circumvent  them  in  the 
eend. 

"  But  come,  let's  liquor,  the  sun  is  gettin'  over  the  foreyard,  as 
we  sailors  say.  Slick,  here's  your  good  health.  I  say,  that  warn't 
a  bad  rise,  was  it  ?  I  took  out  of  Blue-nose  about '  the  language  of 
macJcereV  " 


o 


il 


ii '  11 


80 


THE    BEST    NATURED 


f 


ill'"  II 


X^S,-!- 


■•'        '',•■■'''. 


v;    .^.K 


y^^ 


-^  CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  BEST  NATURED  MAN  IN  THE  WORLD. 


.'.  Finding  the  captain  really  good  naturecl  now,  I  took  the  oppor- 

,;      tunity  of  attending  to  the  duties  of  the  office  I  had  accepted,  pro- 
duced and  read  to  him  my  commission  and  instructions,  and  asked  ] 
his  advice  as  to  the  mode  and  manner  of  executing  it. 

"  Silently,  Mr.  Slick,''  he  replied,  as  the  Puritan  minister  said  to 
the  barber  who  asked  him  how  he  would  be  shaved ;  *  silently,  Sir,' 
gais  he.  '  Do  it  as  quietly  as  you  can.'  On  business,  men  are  on 
their  guard :  in  conversation,  confidential.  Folks  don't  like  to  be 
examined  by  a  public  officer,  they  don't  know  the  drift  of  it  exactly, 
and  aint  quite  sartified,  they  wont  be  overhauled  for  their  doins  and 
get  themselves  into  a  fix.  Right  without  might  don't  avail  much, 
Q  and  authority  without  power  to  force  obedience,  is  like  a  boat  without 
oars,  it  can't  go  ahead.  I  wouldn't,  if  I  was  you,  let  every  one 
know  what  your  main  object  was :  if  you  do,  you  will  get  more  plans 
than  facts,  and  more  advice  than  information." 

He  then  entered  minutely  into  the  description  of  the  fisheries, 
their  extent,  the  manner  in  which  they  were  carried  on,  and  the  im- 
provements they  were  capable  of,  furnished  me  with  a  vast  deal  of 
useful  information,  and  gave  me  the  names  of  the  persons  on  the 
coast  I  was  to  pump  dry,  as  he  called  it.  He  also  gave  me  some 
tables  and  calculations  he  had  made  on  the  subject,  which  he  had 
privately  prepared  for  Mr.  Adams  some  time  since. 

"  These  figures  and  details  wont  interest  you  much,  Squire,  for 
you  hanfce  a  turn  that  way,  and  beside  it  aint  our  custom,  as  it  is  in 
J^ugland,  to  publish  everything  in  newspapers,  that  our  public  men 
or  national  departments  are  doin'  for  the  country.  Blartin'  out  a 
discovery  afore  you  take  a  patent  may  help  others,  but  it  keeps  you 
poor.  But  I  must  say  this,  neither  your  folks,  nor  ourn,  know  the 
vast  importance  of  these  fisheries,  though  we  are  a  more  wide  awake 
people  than  provincials  be.  That  wliich  made  Amsterdam  ought  to 
malce  Halifax." 

I  knew  Blowhard  had  great  experience,  but  I  had  no  idea,  what 
a  clear  head  and  enlarged  views  he  had.  It  don't  do  to  judge  men 
by  their  appearance,  and  conversalioii  is  more  than  half  the  time  a 
refiiije  from  thought  or  a  blind  to  conceal  it. 

Having  fixed  this  matter  up  snug,  sais  T,  "  Captin,  I  have  come 
here  on  a  very  disagreeable  business,  and  I  want  your  advice  and 
adsistance.    That  vessel  a  layin'  outside  there  is  the  '  Black  Hawk.' " 


MAN    IN    THE    WORLD. 


81 


IS,  and  asked 


"  I  know  it,"  ho  said,  "  I  could  tell  her  among  a  thousand ;  next 
to  the  '  Eagle'  she  ia  the  most  beautiful  craft  of  the  whole  American 
mackerel  fleet."  ; 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  the  skipper  has  gone  mad." 

"Mad,"  said  he,  and  the  word  seemed  to  annoy  him,  ''not  a  bit 
of  it — odd  like  a  little,  perhaps,  but  a  good  sailor  I  warrant :  mad, 
hay !  Why  they  say  I  am  mad,  just  cause  I  go  where  others  darsent 
follow  me,  and  keep  order  and  will  have  it  pn  board;  I  am  the  best 
natured  man  living."  ,:'i     ■  .:<  ■ : '    >  .xt^  v  ji 

At  that  moment  the  cook  made  his  appearance  accompanied  by 
the  cabin  boy,  to  whom  he  gave  some  instruction  about  the  table. 
The  instant  Ijlowhard  saw  the  former,  he  suddenly  boiled  over  with 
rage  and  looked  the  very  picture  of  a  madman. 

"  Come  here,  jou  old  Lucifer,"  said  he,  "  or  I'll  make  the  whites 
of  your  two  great  goggle  eyes  the  same  colour  as  your  face,  black  as 
midnight." 

"  Tank  you,  massa,"  said  the  negro,  holding  the  door  in  his  hand, 
^'  but  you  mad  now,  and  I  berry  busy  gettin'  dinner  ready ;  you  said 
half  past  eleben,  and  it  is  just  gone  eleben,  and  I  see  the  breeze  off 
Bagged  Island." 

"Eleven,  you  villain,"  said  the  captain,  ".I  wish  I  could  get  my 
paw  upon  you^  it's  half  past  now." 

"Oh,  massa  Commodore,  you  mad  now;  just  look  at  are  olo 
crometer  turnip  of  yourn." 

The  captain  pulled  out  a  large  silver  watch,  resembling  that  vege- 
table more  than  a  modern  time-piece,  and  instantly  recovering  his 
good  humour  said :  "  Well,  cookey,  you  are  right  for  oncet  in  your 
life,  that  are  a  fact,  come  here,  here  is  a  glass  of  monogohela  for  you 
cookey.     Tip  that  off,  and  then  stir  your  stumps." 

"  Massa,  your  berry  good  health,  same  to  you  massa  Sam,  and 
massa  mate."  Drinking  it  off  he  returned  to  the  door,  which  ho 
held  as  a  screen  in  his  hand,  and  then  showing  two  rows  of  ivory 
that  extended  almost  from  ear  to  ear,  he  turned  and  said :  "Now 
next  time,  massa,  don't  go  get  mad  for  noten,"  and  vanished. 

"Mad!  You  see  they  say  I  am  mad,"  he  said  again;  "but 
there  never  was  so  good-natured  a  man  as  I  be.  I  never  was  mad 
in  my  life,  except  I  was  put  out ;  and  there  is  enough  un  board  a 
vessel  to  drive  a  man  distracted.  I  never  saw  a  rail  Yankee  mad 
nothcr,  except  he  made  a  bad  specilation.  No,  we  don't  go  crazy, 
we  got  too  much  sense  for  that,  and  Blue-nose  has  too  little — the 
Butch  is  too  slow  for  it,  and  a  nigger  has  no  care ;  but  a  mad 
Frenchman  is  a  sight  to  behold.  I  shall  never  forget  a  feller  onco 
I  drove  ravin*  distracted.  I  was  bound  for  Prince  Edward's  Island 
fishery ;  and  I  never  made  such  a  run  afore  or  since,  as  that  from 
Cape  Cod  to  Arichat.  There  the  wind  failed,  and  not  feelin'  well, 
I  took  the  boat  and  went  ashore  to  the  doctor.  ,         ,  ^  .y,^. 


5,      ' 


m: 


r  t 


82 


THE    BEST    WA  TUBED 


'  H 


i      : 


aiiii 


■"  *'  Sais  ho,  *  you  must  tako  five  powders  of  calomel  and  colycinth, 
one  every  other  night,'  and  ho  did  them  up  as  neat  as  you  please,  in 
white  slips  of  paper,  quite  workmanlkc.  v 

"  '  Wliat's  the  daraago  V  sais  I.  ■ 

" '  Eightecn-penec,'  sais  he. 

"  '  Eighteen  what !'  sais  I,  a  raisin'  my  voice  so  as  to  bo  heard  in 
airnest. 

•'  Eightecn-pence/  said  he.     '  I  can't  sell  'em  no  cheaper,  that 
colycinth  is  expensive,  and  don't  keep  well ;  and  you  must  import  it 
from  London  yourself.' 
,     "  ^  I  hope  I  may  never  see  Capo  Cod  again  if  I  do,'  sais  I. 

"  *  I  don't  moan  you,'  he  said,  quite  cool ;  '■  I  mean  me.' 

" '  Then  why  the  plague  didn't  you  say  so  V  sais  I. 

" '  I  can't  take  no  less,'  said  he.  *  This  is  a  poor  country  here. 
Sometimes  I  ride  five  or  six  miles  to  see  a  sick  woman  j  well,  half 
the  time  I  don't  get  paid  at  all,  sometimes  I  get  only  a  few  dried 
6sh,  or  a  little  butter,  or  may  be  a  dozen  of  eggs,  and  ofto'-  othin' 
but  a  dozen  fleas.  If  it's  too  dear  t  ike  it  for  nothin',  foi  won't 
take  less.' 

"  '  Why  you  old  salts  and  sinna,'  st  id  I,  '  do  you  think  I  am  com- 
plainin'  of  the  price  ?  I  was  complainin'  of  you  bein'  such  a  fool  as 
to  charge  so  little.  Who  the  plague  can  live  arter  that  fashion? 
There,'  sais  I,  'is  a  dollar,  keep  that,'  a  throwin  of  it  down  on  his 
counter,  'and  I  will  keep  the  medicire,  for  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  take 
it.  The  smell  of  your  shop  has  half  cured  me  already,  and  lots  of 
molasses  and  water,  I  guess,  will  do  the  rest.' 

"  Well,  I  picked  up  the  poivders,  and  put  thqm  into  my  waistcoat- 
pocket,  and  thought  no  more  about  'em.  I  pitied  that  are  doctor, 
for  I  took  a  kind  of.  likin'  to  him,  seein'  he  was  like  me,  had  great 
command  of  himself,  and  kept  cool.  So  when  I  was  ready  to  leave, 
'  Dr.  Pain,'  sais  I,  '  I  am  the  best-untured  man  in  the  world,  I  do 
believe;  but  I  hope  I  may  be  most  particularly  d — d,  if  I  could 
stand  such  patients  as  you  have.     Take  my  advice^  cuss  and  quit.' 

"'Don't  swear,'  said  he,  'it's  apoplectic,  and  it's  profane.' 

"'Swear,'  sais  I,  'who  the  devil  made  you  a  preacher?  If  it 
warnt  for  your  fleas  I'd  flay  you  alive,  you  old — ' 

" '  Take  care,'  said  he,  '  you'll  bruak  that  retort.' 

" ' Retort !'  sais  I ;  'to  be  sure  I  will  letort,  it's  my  fashion  to 
give  as  good  as  I  get.' 

"  '  The  man  is  drunk,'  said  he,  mumbling  to  himself;  and  he  slipt 
into  an  inner  room,  and  bolted  the  dcor. 

"It  appears  to  me  people  tease  me  a  purpose  sometimes,  just 
because  I  am  good-natured. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  sayin',  as  soon  as  I  got  on  board  the  breeze 
sprung  up  agin,  and  we  slipped  through  the  great  Gut  of  Canso  quite 
easy,  but  owin'  io  the  eddies  and  flaw-s  of  wind,  sometimes  one  ecnd 


MAN    IN    THE    WORLD. 


88 


foremost  and  sometimes  tho  other,  and  we  passed  Sand  Point,  Ship 
Harbour,  Pirate's  Cove,  Plaister  Buff,  McNair's  Bight,  and  all  the 
other  hiding  and  smuggling  places,  one  arter  the  other.  Just  as  wo 
got  off  Indigue  ledges,  a  fishing-boat  bore  down  on  us.  ,., , 

"'Any  fish,  Captano?'  '^  '   ^      '■ 

"  <  What's  your  name  V  sais  I  j  for  I  always  like  to  answer  one 
question  before  I  answer  another.  ..  '^ ..  -  .  Uiii 

" '  Nicholas  Baban,'  said  ho. 

"  He  was  a  little  dried-up  wizened  Frenchman,  that  looked  more 
like  a  bubboon  than  anything  else.  He  had  a  pair  of  mocassins  on 
his  feet,  tanned  and  dressed,  with  the  hair  on  the  outside ;  his  home- 
spun trousers  didn't  come  much  below  the  knee,  and  the  call  between 
that  and  the  little  blue  sock  was  bare,  and  looked  the  colour  of  a 
smoked  salmon.  His  jacket,  like  his  trousers,  had  shrunk  up  too, 
and  only  came  to  the  pockets  of  his  waistcoat,  while  the  blue  cloth 
it  was  first  made  of,  was  patched  over  with  another  kind,  having 
white  stripes,  such  as  the  Frenchwomen  wear  for  petticoats.  His 
cap,  for  hat  he  had  none,  had  been  cobbled  up  out  of  old  red  worsted, 
aud  a  piece  of  fox-skin,  with  the  tail  hanging  down  rakishly  behind. 
Iq  the  front  was  stuck  two  little  black  pipes.  He  was  a  pictur*  to 
behold,  and  so  was  the  other  critter  in  the  bow  of  the  boat. 

"'Any  fish,  Captane?  Best  Roke  code-fish,  jist  caught,  vary 
good.' 

" '  Well,'  sais  I,  '  Mr.  Babboon,  I  don't  care  if  I  do.  Throw  us 
up  on  deck  two  dozen,  for  a  mess  of  chowder.' 

"  Well,  they  was  as  pretty  a  lot  of  cod  as  T  most  ever  seed.  Them 
lodges  is  the  best  boat-fishing  ground  I  know  on,  on  the  whole  coast. 
'  Now,'  sais  I,  '  Mr.  Babboon,  *  what's  to  pay  V 

"'Any ting  you  like,  Captauc.' 

"'Any ting  is  nothin','  sais  I.  'Name  your  price,  for  time  is 
money,  and  we  must  be  a  movin'  on  agin.  Come,  what's  the 
damage  V 

"  '  Oh,  anyting  you  like,  Sarc.' 

And  the  deuce  a  thing  else  could  I  get  out  of  him ;  but  *  anyting 
you  like,  Sarc,'  which  I  didn't  like  at  all )  at  last  I  began  to  get 
riled.  Thinks  I,  I'll  teach  you  to  speak  out  plaiu  next  time,  I  know; 
so  I  put  my  hand  in  my  waistcoat-pocket,  and  took  out  something  to 
give  him.  '  Here,'  sais  I,  '  Mr.  Babboon,'  a  stretchin'  out  my  hand 
to  him ;  and  he  reached  up  his'n  to  receive  his  pay,  and  began  to 
thank  me  gallus  polite  afore  he  got  it. 

" '  Tank  you,  Sare,  vary  much  obliege.' 

" '  Here's  five  calomel  powders,'  said  I,  and  I  dropt  them  into  his 
hand.  '  Take  one  every  other  night  agoin'  to  bed,  in  some  sweatenin' 
or  another,  and  it  will  clear  your  complexion  for  you,  and  make  you 
as  spry  as  a  four-year-old.' 

'*  Oh  !  I  never  saw  anything  like  that  mad  Frenchman.    He  fairly 


t: 


".I 


84 


THE    BEST    NATURED 


/•» 


\ 


yelled,  ho  tore  off  his  old  cap  and  jumped  on  it,  and  let  out  a  ball 
putc  of  a  lighter  colour  than  his  face,  that  made  him  look  something 
not  human.  1I(^  foamed,  and  raved,  and  jabhoriMl,  and  threw  his 
arms  about,  and  shook  his  clenched  list  at  me,  and  swore  all  worts  of 
outhH.  French  oaths,  (Jiaelic  oaths  —  for  there  is  a  largo  Ilighlaml 
eettlement  back  of  Indiguc — Indian  cusses,  and  Yankee  and  English 
and  Irish  oaths.  They  all  came  out  in  one  great  long  chain  ;  and  I 
am  sart&iu  if  anybody  had  taken  hold  of  one  cend  of  it,  afore  the 
links  broke,  and  stretched  'em  out  strait,  they  would  have  reached 
across  the  Gut  of  Canso. 

"  Well,  artcr  I  thought  he  had  let  off  steam  enough  for  safety,  I 
took  out  of  my  pocket  a  handful  of  loose  silver,  and  held  it  out  to 
him.  'Come,  Mr.  IJabboon,'  said  I,  'come  and  take  your  pay,  I 
don't  want  your  fish  for  nothin*,  and  go  I  must;  so  come  now,  like 
a  good  feller,  and  let  us  part  friends.' 

*'  But  it  only  sot  him  off  agin  as  bad  as  ever;  but  this  time  it  was 
all  abuse  of  us  Yaidfcos.  Well,  I  can  stand  a  glass  or  two  of  that, 
but  more  gets  into  my  head,  and  excites  mo.  Thiidcs  I,  my  boy  I'll 
cool  you.  I  always  have  a  hand-engine  on  board  for  wettin'  sails ;  it 
makes  them  thicker,  heavier,  and  hold  the  wind  better.  We  had 
been  usin'  ourn  that  mornin'  to  help  us  through  the  Gut,  for  the 
currents  were  bothersome  at  the  time.  'Give  me  the  hose,'  said  I; 
'  and  let  a  hand  stand  ready  to  work  the  pump.  Are  you  ready  V 
sais  I. 

" '  Yes,'  sais  the  man. 

"  'Now,'  sais  I,  '  Mr.  Babboon,  I'll  wash  your  face  for  you,  afore 
you  go  home  to  see  the  old  lady,'  and  let  go  a  stream  all  over  him. 
Some  of  it  actilly  went  down  his  mouth  and  nearly  choked  him,  he 
and  t'other  feller  pulled  out  of  reach,  hoisted  sail,  and  made  tracks 
for  the  shore  as  straight  as  the  crow  flies.  I  felt  kinder  sorry  for  him 
too,  for  ho  lost  two  dozen  beautiful  cod,  and  got  a  duckin'  into  the 
bargain ;  but  it  was  his  own  fault,  he  ought  to  have  kept  a  civil 
tongue  in  his  head.  Yes,  I  think  Parly  voo  Frenchman  will  beat 
any  created  critter  at  gettin'  mad." 

"But,  Captin/'  sais  I,  "our  skipper  is  actilly  mad,  and  no 
mistake." 

"  What's  his  name  ?"  said  he. 

"Jabish  Green." 

"  What !  Jabish  Green,  of  Squantum  ?"  said  he,  a  jumpin'  up  on 
eend. 

"  The  same,"  sais  I. 

'  Mad  !"  said  he.  "  To  be  sure  he  is ;  as  mad  as  a  March  hare. 
That's  poor  old  Jim  McGory,  as  they  call  him  ;  as  good  a  critter,  and 
as  good  a  seaman,  as  evqr  trod  shoe-leather.  Oh,  I  guess  he  is  mad. 
It's  all  day  with  him,  poor  feller !  and  has  been  ever  since  that  ever- 
lastin'  scoundrel,  Jim  McGory,  came  out  of  the  South,  and  got  up 


li!)  ill 'III 


MAN    IN    TUB    WOULD. 


86 


protracted  mcotina  in  our  parts,  bo  as  to  kocp  tlio  Imt  passin'  round 
all  ibo  time.  Gracious  knows  ho  was  bad  enough  that  foUor,  but  ho 
luado  himself  out  a  huudred  time  wus  than  ho  was.  lie  lied  as  fast 
horse  could  trot,     llo  waid  ho  had  been  a  Yixburg  gambler,  a 


as  a 


horse-stcalcr,  a  nigger-kidnapper,  a  wracker,  a  pirate,  and  I  don't 
know  what  he  didn't  own  to.  The  greater  the  sinner,  the  greater 
the  saint,  you  know.  Well,  ho  said  he  was  convartcd  in  the  middle 
of  the  night,  by  an  evangelical  call,  '  Jim  McGory,  come  to  glory  1' 
Oh,  the  crowds  of  foolish  women  and  men  that  followed  arter  that 


It  appears  to  me,  the  more  onlikely 
believe  them.     Poor  Jabish  attended  a 


inun,  would  astonish  you 
things  are,  the  more  folks 
protracted  meetin'  of  that  critter's,  down  to  Squantum,  that  lasted 
three  days  and  three  nights;  and  the  followin'  night  ho  was  so  ex- 
cited he  didn't  sleep  a  wink,  and  they  couldn't  get  no  sense  out  of 
him ;  he  couldn't  say  anythin',  but  that  are  profane  rhyme  over  and 
over,  and  they  had  to  scud  him  to  the  asylum.  Who  on  airth  could 
liiivc  shipped  that  man?  Who  are  the  owners  of  the  'Black 
Hawk'?"  .  .  .,,...,. 

"I  don't  know."  ■   ■;  p^v 

"Have  you  a  tradin*  cargo  of  notions  on  board?"      *'  -- ' 

"Yes."  ;'^.  ..     ■    .■ 

"  Then,  it's  the  Boston  folks.  They  don't  know  nothin'  about 
the  fishery.  They  have  hired  this  man  'cause  they  have  got  him 
cheap,  and  they  think  they  are  doin'  great  things,  'cause  they  get  such 
a  large  profit  on  their  goods;  but  they  don't  count  the  time  they 
lose,  and  it's  no  better  than  pedlin'  at  last;  and  if  there  is  a  created 
critter  I  hate  and  despise,  it's  a  pedlar — the  cheatin',  lyin',  ramblin', 
lazy  villain." 
"Except  a  clock  pedlar,"  sais  I,  winkin*  to  him.  -  — -' 

"No,"  sais  he,  a  raisin'  of  his  voice,  until  he  roared  amost,  (for 
xchcit,  a  mem  is  lorong,  and  won't  admit  it,  he  always  (jets  angry). 
"No,  I  won't  except  them.  There  haint  been  an  honest  one  here 
since  your  time ;  they  is  the  wust  of  all ;  and  a  wooden  clock  now  is 
like  a  wooden  nutmeg,  or  a  hickory  ham  —  a  standin*  joke  agin  our 
great  nation.  Well,  what  do  you  want  me  to  do,  Mr.  Slick?"  -■  v.' 
"Take  this  skipper  home  with  you." 

After  a  pause  of  a  moment,  he  said,  "  No,  I  can't  do  that.  I  am 
the  best  tempered  man  in  the  world,  but  I  haint  got  patience ;  and 
if  he  went  for  to  go  for  to  give  me  any  of  his  nonsense  about  Jim 
McGory,  I  suppose  I  should  turn  to  and  thrash  him,  and  that  would 
only  make  him  wus.  Here's  the  '  Nantasket,'  of  Nantucket,  along- 
side here.  The  Captin  is  fonder  of  quack  medicines  than  Babboouj 
the  Frenchman,  was,  by  a  long  chalk.  I'll  get  him  to  give  him  a 
passage  home.     So  that's  settled." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  there  is  another  chap  that  must  go  home;  and  I 
told  him  all  about  Enoch  Eels  tantalizin'  the  skipper,  and  settin* 
8 


1 .  *' 


■"BfPUpWPIW  I       U  !■ 


>"'   ' 


86 


THE    BEST    NATURED 


.''■V 


k 


t 


f  i 


(k':i  'i 


!il( 


him  out  of  his  mind  j  but,"  sais  I,  "  I  am  afraid  he  won't  quit  the  I 
vessel.  I 

"Won't  he?"  said  he.  "Then  I'll  make  him,  that's  all.  I'll 
soon  larn  him  the  difference  between  Jim  McGory  and  old  Blow-  I 
hard,  I  know.  He's  jist  the  chap  I  want  —  something  to  tame  :  it 
keeps  one  in  good  humour.  I  had  a  bear  on  board  onst ;  I  had  him 
for  three  seasons.  He  was  a  great  comiort  to  me,  when  I  had  no- 
thing to  do.  I  used  to  let  him  loose,  take  a  short  iron  bar  in  my 
hand,  and  give  him  lessons  in  manners.  It  was  great  fun;  but 
being  so  well-fed,  ho  grew  to  be  so  strong  a  brute,  he  became  ob- 
stropolus  and  troublesome,  and  used  to  drive  the  men  up  the  riggin' 
sometimes.  Nobody  could  manage  him  but  me ;  for  a  crack  over 
the  nose  with  the  iron  bar  always  made  him  civil.  A  bear's  nose, 
you  know,  Mr.  Slick,  is  as  tender  as  a  feller's  that's  got  a  cold  in 
his  head.  It  kept  us  all  in  good  humour.  I  used  to  like  to  get 
him  near  Satan,  tail  on,  give  him  a  whack  on  the  rump,  and  put  my 
rod  behind  me  as  quick  as  wink,  when  he'd  turn  short,  lay  right 
hold  of  the  cook's  leg  with  his  claws,  and  give  him  a  nip.  But 
somehow,  I  consait,  bears  don't  like  niggers ;  for  he  always  let  go 
soon,  and  then  sneezed  for  a  minute  or  so,  as  if  he  smelt  pyson. 
Well,  one  day,  cook  was  called  aft,  just  as  the  men's  dinner  was 
ready ;  and  in  slipt  bear,  and  began  to  pay  away  at  it  in  rail  airnest ; 
but  he  scalded  his  paws,  and  skinned  his  nose  with  the  soup,  and 
the  meat  was  so  hot,  he  had  to  bolt  it.  The  pain  set  him  ravin'  dis- 
tracted mad;  and  when  he  came  o"t  of  the  cabousc,  he  cleared  the 
deck  in  less  than  half  no  time,  lie  was  dangerous,  that's  a  fact. 
Well,  I  got  the  rod,  and  he  gave  me  a  stand-up  fight  for  it ;  and  at 
last,  after  he  had  warded  off  a  good  many  blows,  1  iiit  him  a  crack 
on  the  snout;  and  he  turned,  and  went  into  hin  den,  slowly  and 
sulkily,  a  lookin'  over  his  shoulder  as  he  went,  and  grinnin'  awful 
wicked.  The  short,  quick  way  he  lifted  up  his  scalded  paws  off  the 
deck,  instead  of  his  usual  slouchiu'  gait,  was  the  funniest  thing  you 
ever  saw. 

"  Next  raornin*,  when  I  turned  out,  f  seed  all  the  men  was  ou 
deck,  and  Bruin's  door  standin'  open.     *  Where's  the  bar?'  sais  I. 

"  *  He  got  out  afoi'o  day,'  sais  tiiey ;  '  and  as  his  paws  were 
scalded  and  sore,  we  kinder  guess  he  went  overboard  to  cool  'em.' 

"  I  seed  how  it  was  :  the  villains  had  made  him  walk  the  plank. 
Oh,  Solomon!  didn't  I  bile  up,  ready  to  run  over  the  lid!  for  I 
don't  like  fellers  to  make  free  with  mo  or  mine.  But  I  threw  a 
Uttle  grain  of  prudence  into  it,  and  it  went  right  down  in  a  minute, 
jist  as  a  drop  of  water  puts  down  bilin'  maplo  sugar.  I  have  great 
command  over  myself — I  believe  I  am  the  best-tempered  man  in  the 
world.  Sais  I  to  myself,  '  It  aint  right  to  keep  this  brute  to  bother 
them,  and  he's  got  dangerous;  and  if  he  was  to  make  mince-meat 
of  any  of  'em,  it  would  be  heavy  on  one's  conscience,  if  a  feller  was 
on  his  beam-end.'     So  bais  I,  '  Well,  it's  jist  as  well  he  has  taken 


iij..^ 


MAN    IN    THE    WORLD. 


8T 


Kiws  were 


a  swim  to  shore,  for  ho  aint  safe,  is  he  ?  and  sheep  seems  more 
natcral  food  than  humans  for  him.  I  should  have  liked  though,'  said 
I  '  if  you  could  a  cought  him  as  he  went  over  by  the  ears,  and 
drawed  his  skin  off,  as  he  sprung  out ;  the  hide  was  worth  twenty 
dollars.' 

"  Well,  they  larfed  at  that  joke,  but  they  didn't  know  me.  I  ' 
always  joke  when  I  am  aggravated;  it's  like  driving  down  the  wad 
well  —  when  the  gun  goes  off  it  makes  a  louder  report.  I  warn't 
well  pleased,  and  yet  I  can't  say  I  was  sorry,  only  I  wished  they 
had  asked  leave,  and  I  turned  and  went  below.  It's  hetter  to  he 
cheated  than  chafedy  when  you  can't  help  yourself.  Presently  I 
heered  an  awful  noise  on  deck,  all  the  hands  shoutin'  and  cheorin' 
and  callin'  out  at  the  top  eend  of  their  voice. 

" '  Hullo !'  sais  I,  ^  what  in  natur'  is  all  this  ?  has  States  Prison 
broke  loose  ?' 

<« '  Look  there,'  sais  they ;  'look  at  Bruin  the  bear.' 

"  We  was  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  Louisburg,  and  it  was 
nearly  calm.  Two  French  fishoniiiin  had  come  out  in  a  boat  to  take 
up  their  nets,  and,  while  their  backs  was  turned.  Bruin  claws  over 
the  bow,  and  there  he  was  a  sittin'  on  his  haunches  a-grinnin'  and 
a-raakin'  faces  at  'cm,  and  a-lickin'  of  his  chopL.  Tvith  his  great  red 
tougue,  as  if  ho  had  heard  of  French  dishes,  and  wanted  to  try  one. 

"  Well,  they  yelled  and  roared  with  fright ;  but  the  bear  was  used 
to  noises,  and  didn't  understand  no  language  but  Indgian  and  Eng- 
lish, and  held  his  ground  like  a  man.  At  last  one  of  the  Frenchers 
got  the  boat-hook  and  made  a  poke  at  him ;  but  he  knocked  it  out 
of  his  hand  away  up  into  the  air  ever  so  far,  and  then  actilly  roared, 
ho  was  so  mad. 

'"Lower  the  boat,'  sais  I,  'my  men.  Be  quick.  Mate,  you 
and  I  must  go  with  our  rifles ;  and  Tim  Lynch,  you  are  a  good  shot 
too,  bear  a  hand;  we  must  be  quick,  or  he'll  breakfast  off  those 
chaps.     Take  your  knives  with  you." 

"  \Vell,  we  pulled  off,  and  got  within  good  shootin'  distance,  when 
I  told  the  Frenchmen  to  lie  flat  down  in  the  boat,  and  we'd  shoot 
the  bar.  Well,  jist  as  they  throwed  themselves  down,  bar  began  to 
make  preparations  for  ondressin'  of  'cm,  when  the  mate  and  I  iired, 
and  down  he  fell  on  one  of  the  seats  and  smasned  it  in  two.  The 
man  at  the  helm  jumped  overboard  and  swam  towards  us,  but  the 
other  neither  rose  nor  spoke.  The  bar  had  fallen  on  him,  when  he 
gave  himself  up  for  lost  and  fainted.  We  shipped  the  bar  into  our 
boat,  put  the  helmsman  back  into  his'n,  and  raised  t'other  feller  on 
his  I'cet,  arter  which  we  returned  to  the  '  Eagle.' 

"  No,  Pd  like  to  tame  Enoch  Eells.  There  would  be  fun  in  it, 
wouldn't  there  ?  Cook,  keep  the  dinner  back,  till  further  orders. 
Four  hands  in  the  boat  there  —  move  quick.  Come,  let's  go  on 
board  the  '  Black  Hawk.'  " 


¥* 


van 


88 


THE    BAIT    BOX. 


r   \ 


\ 


"Massa/'  said  Satan,  "I  know  you  is  de  best-natured  man  in  del 
world,  'cept  six,  and  derefore  I  retreat  you  dine  fust;  it's  half-past! 
elebcn  now,  and  dinner  is  pij)iu^  hot,  and  dat  are  Jamaiky  does  smell 
so  oloriferous,"  and  he  held  back  his  head  and  snuffed  two  or  three 
times,  as  if  he  longed  to  taste  of  it  agin;  "and  Massa  Sam  aintj 
well,  I  is  sure  he  aint,  is  you,  Massa  Sam  V* 

That  familiar  word,  Sam,  from  a  nigger  was  too  much  for  poor  1 
Blowhard. 

"  Sam  !  the  devil,"  said  he,  raisin'  his  voice  to  its  utmost  pitch, , 
"  how  dare  you,  you  black  imp  of  darkness,  talk  before  me  that  | 
way." 

And  he  seized  his  favourite  jigger,  but  as  he  raised  it  in  the  air, 
Satan  absquotulated.  The  captain  glared  at  the  closing  door  most 
savagely ;  but  being  disappointed  of  his  prey,  he  turned  to  me  with  ] 
a  look  of  fury. 

"  I  agree  with  you,  captin',"  sais  I,  quite  cool ;  "  I  think  we  might ! 
as  well  be  a-movin." 

"Come  then,"  said  he,  suddenly  lowerin*  his  tone,  "come  then. 
let  us  go  ahead.     Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  "  I  believe  they  will  drive  me  ] 
mad  at  last ;  every  fellow  on  board  of  this  -v  esse!  takes  liberties  with 
me,  thinking  I'll  stand  it,  because  they  know  1  am  the  best-natured  \ 
man  m  the  world." 


CHAPTER   IX. 


ill  I!  I 


fW^ 


THE    BAIT    BOX. 

"  So  he  wont  leave  the  vessel,  eh  ?"  said  Captain  Love,  "  well,  a 
critter  that  woni  move  must  be  made  to  go,  that's  all.  There  is  a 
motive  power  in  all  natur'.  There  is  a  current  or  a  breeze  for  a 
vessel,  an  iogine  for  a  rail-car,  necessity  for  poverty,  love  for  the 
feminine  gender,  and  glory  for  the  hero.  J^ut  for  men,  I  like  per- 
suasion; it  seems  to  convene  better  with  a  free  and  enlightened 
citizen.  Now  here,"  said  he,  openin'  his  closet,  and  taking  out  his 
'rope-yarn,'  (the  formidable  instrument  of  punishment  I  have 
spoken  of,)  "  here  is  a  persuader  that  nothing  can  stand.  Oh  !  he 
wijut  come,  vh?  well,  we'll  see  !" 

As  soou  as  he  went  on  board  the  '  Black  Hawk,'  we  descended 
into  the  large  cabin,  and  there  sat  Mr.  Enoch  Eells  apart  from  the 
rest,  with  his  head  rostin'  on  his  hands,  and  his  elbows  on  his  knee.s, 
lookin'  as  if  he  hrul  lost  cviry  friend  he  had  in  the  world,  and  was 
a  tryin'  to  fumy  iheir  ftuos  on  the  floor. 

"Mornin'  to  you,  Mi.  Eells/'  said  tho  skipper,  "come  to  invitt) 


THE    BAIT    BOX. 

you  on  board  the  'Bald  Eagle/  to  take  a  trip  to  hum  to  «ee  your 
friends  again." 

<'Well,  I  wont  go/'  said  he,  "so  just  mind  your  own  business." 

"  Hold  up  your  head,  man,  and  let  me  look  at  you,"  he  replied, 
and  he  seized  him  by  the  collar,  lifted  him  on  his  feet,  and  exposed 
bis  face  to  view.  It  was  a  caution,  you  may  depend,  swelled,  and 
cut,  and  bruised  and  blackened  dreadful. 

"  Hullo !"  said  the  skipper,  "  what's  all  this :  who  has  been  ill- 
using  the  man?  It  must  be  inquired  into.  What's  the  matter, 
here  V  and  he  pretended  to  look  all  surprised. 

"Why,"  said  the  second  mate,  "the  matter  is  just  this:  Enoch, 
instead  of  mindin'  his  business,  aggravated  the  captin'  and  set  him 
mad;  aud  instead  of  mindin'  my  business,  as  I  had  ought  to  do,  I 
returned  the  compliment,  first  aggravated,  and  then  set  him  mad, 
and  we  fit,  I  must  say,  I  took  him  in,  for  I  know  how  to  box  scien- 
titic." 

"Workmanlike,   you    mean,"  the   captain   said,   "I  hate   and 

j  despise  that  word  '  scientific  /  it  is  a  cloak  to  cover  impudence  and 

ignorance.     A  feller  told  me  as  we  started  last  voyage,  he  fished 

scientific.     '  Then  you  are  just  the  hand  for  me,'  said  I.     '  What's 

the  cause  of  that  film  on  the  mackerel's  eye  in  winter  ?" 

" '  What  film  ?'  said  he. 

" '  And  what's  the  scientific  cause  that  the  cataract  drops  off  of 
I  itself  without  a  doctor  to  couch  it  with  a  needle  ?' 

'* '  What  cataract  ?'  said  he. 

"'Why,  you  impostor,'  said  I,  'you  said  you  fished  scientific j 

[get  up  your  traps;  go  ashore  and  finish  your  schooliu','  and  I  pat 

|Liiu  into  the  boat  and  landed  him.    Finery  in  talk  is  as  bad  as  finery 

[in  dress;    and  our  great  country  is  overrun  with  it.     Things  aint 

sulld  and  plain  now  a-days  as  they  used  to  be;  but  they  are  all 

veneered  and  varnished.     Say  workmanlike  and  I  wont  nonconcur 

you,  for  I  must  say  the  business  was  done  thorough." 

"  Well,"  sais  Bent,  "  call  it  what  you  like,  I  was  taughten  the 
jart,  and  he  warnt,  or  he  would  have  made  small  bait  of  mo  in  no 
time,  for  he  is  as  brave  as  he  is  strong,  and  I  don't  believe  there  is 
Ian  untaught  man  of  his  inches  could  stand  before  him." 

Eells  Jumpt  right  up  on  eend  at  that,  and  caught  him  by  the 
jhaud.     "  Mr.  Bent,"  said  he,  "you  have  spoke  like  a  man.     I  feel 
I  was  wrong;  I  am  very  sorry  for  it;  let  us  part  friends.     It  is 
[better  I  should  go;  the  lesson  wont  be  lost  on  me." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Blowhard,  "  the  lesson  is  deeper  than  you  think ; 
h'our  father  owns  half  this  h(?re  vessel ;  now  a  man  th;it  is  richer 
jthan  his  neighbour,  is  expected  to  be  liberal  of  his  civility  as  well 
as  his  money;  civility  is  a  cheap  coiu  that  is  manufactured  for 
jnothiu',  and  among  folks  in  general  goes  further  than  dollars  and 
Icents.  But  come,  we  must  be  a  movin'.  Mr.  Eells"  —  and  he 
8* 


ma 


m^ 


"WS 


iiii 


«|! 


i 


.J, 


I'll  {'I 


ll'lll.'li'lli:.  Hill 


'■S-v': 


THE    BAIT    BOX. 


/■  < 


<  marked  the  word  *Mr.'  to  show  he  was  pleased  —  "as  '=''>on  as  youj 

arQ  ready  come  on  hoard,  it  will  look  better  than  goin'  with  me,  itj 

,,  sdems  voluntary  and  free-will  like. 

/  "Now,  Mr.  Slick,  let  us  go  on  board  of  the  'Nantasket'  and  se 

Capting  Oby  Furlong,  old  Sarsiparilly  Pills,  as  I  call  him.  ■  He  isji 
good  kind  of  man  in  his  way,  but  death  on  quack  medicines,  and  I 
■H  especially  sarsiparilly,  for  which  he  is  going  to  take  out  a  patent, 
Mate,  when  you  see  a  flag  hoisted,  come  on  board  with  the  capting, 
fetch  him  without  his  luggage,  and  then  he  will  think  there  is  no  I 
compulsion,  and  you  can  return  for  .that  arterwards.  Come,  boys,  | 
shove  off." 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  said  the  mate,  "  do  you.  think  I'll  be  sued  ?     It's  a| 
great  risk  and  a  heavy  responsibility  this." 

"  Stand  a  one  side,"  said  I,  "  how  dare  you  talk  that  way  to  me?"] 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  the  skipper,  "  every  man  has  his  hobby, 
and  on  board  ship  it  is  actilly  necessary  to  have  some  hobby  oil 
another,  or  the  bottle  is  apt  to  be  sent  for  as  a  companion.     It  is  a| 
dull  life  at  sea,  sometimes,  and  a  sameness  in  it  even  in  its  varieties, 
and  it  is  a  great  thing  to  have  some  object  for  the  mind  to  work  on, 
where  there   are  no  passengers.     Now  there  is  my  bait-box  and! 
patent-jigger  inventions;  there  is  Matey  with  his  books  and  studies, 
and  here  is  Oby  Furlong  with  an  apothecary's  shop  on  board.     The 
want  of  these  things  makes  captings  of  men-of-war  tyrants;  when 
they  don't  study,  their  hobby  is  to  bother  their  men,  and  their] 
whole  talk  is  discipline. 

"  Commodore  Blarlin,  of  the  '  Ben  Lomond,'  a  British  seventy- 
four,  once  hailed  me  off  Fox  Island,  to  ask  some  questions  about] 
the  passage  thro'  the  gut  of  Canso.     He  was  a  tight-built,  well- 
made,  active,  wiry  man,  and  looked  every  inch  a  sailor;  but  the] 
word  tyrant  was  writ  over  all  in  big  print.     There  was  a  fightin' 
devil,  and  a  buUyin'  devil  at  the  same  time  in  his  eyes  and  mouth, 
and  it  ain't  often  they  go  together,  for  it's  mostly  cowards  that  bully;  I 
but  that  man  looked  as  if  he  warnt  afeard  of  old  Scratch  himself. 
It  ain't  always  necessary  to  look  fierce;  I  ain't  skeered  of  old  Nick  I 
nuther;  but  1  am  as  meek  as  a  lamb.     I  do  believe  in  my  soul  I] 
am  the  best  natured  man  living ;  but  that  is  neither  here  nor  there. 

"  When  I  went  aft  to  him — for  he  didn't  meet  mo  a  step,  tho'  he 
sent  for  me  himself  —  he  eyed  me  all  over,  from  head  to  foot,  silent  j 
'  and  scorney  like,  as  much  as  to  say,  what  a  queer  old  thrasher  you 
be !  I  wonder  if  you  are  any  relation  to  tho  sea-sarpont,  or  the 
hippopotamus,  or  any  of  these  outlandish  animals  1*  Ho  never  so 
much  as  asked  me  to  sit  down,  or  to  go  hito  his  cabin,  or  take  a  glass 
to  drink  with  Jiim,  or  sni.l  a  word  in  favour  of  my  beautiful  little 
craft,  which  sailors  always  do,  when  they  can  with  truth. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  all  created  critters  look  down  on  ouuh  other. 
Tho  British  and  French  look  down  on  the  Yankees,  and  oolouists 


J' 


■^^^'k^^ 


f^f'' 


THE    BAIT-BOX. 


.^- 


91 


hook  down  upon  niggers  and  Indians,  while  we  look  down  upon  tlicm 
jail.    It's  the  way  of  the  world,  I  do  suppose;  but  the  road  ain't  a 
pleasant  one. 

]    ''Are  you   acquainted  with   the   navigation   of  the   Straits   of 
ICanso?'  said  he. 

" '  I  guess  I  ought  to  be,'  sais  I. 

"'That's  not  the  question,'  said  he.     'Are  you,  or  are  you  not?' 

" '  Do  you  know  it  V  sais  I.  '  If  you  do,  perhaps  you  have  seen 
ISand  Pint.' 

"  Sais  he,  '  My  friend,  I  aaiffed  you  a  plain,  civil  question ;  will 
lyou  give  me  a  plain,  civil  answer  ?' 

"  Thinks  I  to  myself,  Commodore,  the  question  is  civil  enough, 
Ikt  you  aint  civil,  and  your  manner  aint  civil ;  but,  however,  here's 
lat  you.  I'll  pay  you  off  at  last,  see  if  I  don't,  for  you  sent  for  me ; 
|l  didn't  come  unaxcd,  and  it  was  to  give,  and  not  ax  favours.  '  Yes/ 
Isais  I,  '  as  many  as  you  like.'  Well,  I  told  him  all  about  the  navi- 
jgation,  and  finally  advised  him  not  to  try  to  go  through  without  a 
Istiff  breeze,  with  so  large  a  ship,  as  the  cancnts  were  strong,  and 
[the  wind,  when  light,  always  baffling. 

At  last,  sais  I,  '  This  witness-box  of  yourn,  Commodore,  has  a 
Iplaguey  hard  floor  to  it;  I  don't  care  if  I  sit  down,'  and  1  jist  squat- , 
Ited  down  careless,  with  legs  across  the  breach  of  a  large  gun,  so  big 
ll  could  hardly  straddle  it,  a  most  onpardonable  sin,  as  I  knowed,  on 
Iboard  of  a  man-of  war;  but  I  did  it  a  purpose.  Then  I  jist  sprin- 
Ikled  over  the  beautiful  white  deck  a  little  tobacco-juicv .  acl  coolly 
[took  out  my  jack-knife  and  began  to  prepare  to  load  my  pipe  and 
Iwhittle.  I  did  this  all  intentional,  to  vex  him,  on  account  of  hia 
Irudeuess — for  rudeness  is  a  gamo  two  can  play  at.  Oh,  Jerusalem  ! 
lif  you  had  a  seen  him,  how  he  raved,  and  stamped,  and  swore,  when 
llie  seed  I  was  so  juicy !  and  the  more  he  stormed,  the  more  the  ofli- 
Icers  on  the  other  side  of  the  deck  si.iggored  in  their  sleeves;  for 
I  some  how  or  another,  in  big  ships  or  .ittle  ones,  men  like  to  see  the 
Iskipper  rubbed  up  agin  the  graiii.  vhen  they  aint  like  to  catch  it 
Itlicmselvcs.  \\Jiorcvcr  there  is  aic;/i''nti/,  there  is  a  natural  incU- 
ination  to  disobedience. 

"'Don't  you  know  beCiser  than  diat,  Sir?'  said  he.  'Have  you 
|no  decency  ul>out  you  ? ' 

'' '  Do  )e>u   swaller  when  you  ehaw ?'    sais  I,  lookin'   innocent. 

I*  i!ome  folks  do,  I  know  •  but  I  n(   er  could  for  the  life  of  me.     It 

!S  agin  the  grain,  and  I  consait  hurts  the  digestion.'     Oh,  what  a 

wche  made!  how  he  wagged  his  head,  and  shut  his  mouth  luid  his 
<  close  to !     He  looked  like  a  landsman  jist  agoin  to  be  sea-sick, 
|aiid  he  gave  a  kind  of  shiuldor  all  over  his  frame. 
"*  You  may  go.  Sir,'  said  he. 

'"Thank  you/  s;\isl;  '  I  suppose  I  needn't  usk  leave  for  that. 
|Capung/  sais  J^  still  koepln'  ray  seat  on  the  gun,  '  you  want  a  bait- 
Sbox.' 


■t 


..■;«^ 


•^^ 


■i 


i\ 


m\„ 


'n 


THE    BAIT-BOX. 


n 


iiX 


^, 


" '  A  spittle-box,  you  mean/  said  he. 

"  'No  I  don't/  sais  I.  'I  have  been  too  long  afloat  not  to  know| 
the  meanin'  of  sea-terms.     You  want  a  bait-box/ 

"  He  was  fairly  puzzled.  First  he  looked  at  the  leftcnant,  and  I 
then  at  me,  and  then  he  looked  as  if  he  had  better  drop  further] 
talk;  but  his  curiosity  got  the  better  of  him. 

"'  A  bait-box,'  said  he;  'I  don't  understand  you.' 

"  '  Well,'  sais  I,  'I  invented  a  bait-box  for  cuttin*  up  bait  smal' 
and  fine,  for  enticin'  fish,'  and  I  explained  it  as  short  as  words  could  | 
make  it,  for  fear  he'd  cut  stick  an<4  leave  rae  alone  talkin'  there, 
*  Now,'  sais  I,  '  that  invention,  beautiful  and  simple  as  it  is,  cost  me 
great  thought  and  much  tobacky,'  said  I,  lookin'  innocent  again; 
'  but  it  occupied  my  mind  at  leisure  hours  for  two  seasons,  and  that's  | 
a  great  thing.     Now,  invent  a  bait-box,  or  a  new  capstan,  or  an  im- 
proved windlass,  or  something  or  another  of  that  kind ;  it  will  keep  1 
you  busy,  and  what's  better,  good-natured,  and  you  won't  rave  whea  j 
a  gentleman  jist  spits  on  a  floor  that  has  a  thousand  men  to  clean  it, 

"  'Now,'  sais  I,  a  risin',  puttin'  up  my  knife  and  tobacky,  'Cap.! 
ting,  depend  upon  it,  you  want  a  bait-box.     And,  Commodore,  let 
me  tell  you,  you  sent  for  the  right  man  to  get  information.     I  am| 
Commodore  of  this  everlastin'  splendid  American  fishing-fleet,  of  I 
more  than  two  hundred  fore-and-afters.     A  fleet  the  world  can't  | 
ditto  for  beauty,  speed,  and  equipments.     They  call  me  Old  Blow- 
hard.     If  you  ever  do  me  th>3  honour  to  visit  my  flag-ship,  I  will 
prove  to  you  an  old  Commodore  knows  how  to  receive  a  young  one. 
There  is  a  cabin  in  my  vessel,  small  as  she  is,  and  chairs  in  it,  and 
a  bottle  of  the  best  wine  for  the  like  of  you,  and  old  Jam^ikyfor 
thcui  that  has  sense  to  prefer  it,  and  that's  more  than  there  is  in  tbis 
seventy-four,  big  as  she  is,  as  far  as  I  can  see.     Oh,  invent  a  bait- 
box  !  it  will  improve  your  temper,  and  that  will  improve  your  man- 
ners, depend  upon  it.     I  wish  you  good  mornin'.' 

"I  then  went  on  board,  and  hoisted  a  Commodore's  flag,  and  myl 
men  —  eighteen  in  number  —  saluted  it  with  three  cheers  as  it  wentj 
up,  and  every  other  of  our  vessels  becalmed  there,  seeing  somcthin' 
was  goin'  on  above  common,  took  up  the  cheer,  and  returned  it  with] 
a  will  that  made  the  shores  echo  again. 

"But  here  we  are  almost  alongside  of  the  'Nantasket.'  I  Tf 
introduce  you  to  Capting  Ohy  Furlong ;  he  will  be  a  character  fori 
you,  and  if  you  ever  write  a  book  again,  don't  forgit  Old  Sarn'im 
Tilly  puis." 


THE    WATER-GLASS,    ETC. 


93 


r^x 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE  WATER-GLASS;    Oil,   A    DAY-DREAM  OF   LIFE. 

As  the  men  rowed  us  towards  the  '  Nantasket/  the  Captin  and  I 
jcouldn't  very  well  talk  afore  'ein  on  the  subjects  we  wanted  to  speak 

I  of,  so  we  held  a  sort  of  Quaker's  meetin',  and  said  nothin'.   I  pulled 
the  peak  of  my  cap  over  my  eyes,  for  the  sun  dazzled  me,  and  afore 

II  knowed  where  I  was,  I  was  off  into  one  of  my  day-dreams,  that  I 
Igometiraes  indulge  in.  I  was  musin'  on  what  a  strange  thing  life  is, 
[what  a  curious  feller  man  is,  and  what  a  phantom  we  pursue  all  the 
Itime,  thinkin'  it  points  the  way  to  happiness,  instead  of  enticin'  us 
linto  swamps,  quagmires,  and  lagoons.  Like  most  day-dreams  it 
Iwarn't  very  coherent,  for  one  thought  leads  to  another,  and  that  h.as 
Ian  affinity  to  something  else  j  and  so  at  last  the  thread  of  it,  if  it 
Idon't  get  tangled,  ain't  very  straight,  that's  a  fact.  I  shJl  put  it 
Idown  as  if  I  was  a  talkin'  to  you  about  everything  in  general  and 
|notbin'  in  particular. 

Sais  I  to  myself,  the  world  has  many  nations  on  the  face  of  it,  I 

{reckon,  but  there  gin't  but  four  classes   among  them :    fools   and 

CDaves,  saints  and  sinners.     Fools  and  sinners  form  the  bulk  of 

aankind;  rogues  are  numerous  everywhere,  while  saints — real  salts 

-are  few  in  number,  fewer,  if  you  could  look  into  their  hearts,  than 

^•As  think.    I  was  once  in  Prospect  Harbour,  near  Halifax,  shortly 

rter  a  Boston  packet  had  been  wracked  there.     All  that  could  float 

bad  been  picked  up,  or  washed  away ',  but  the  heavy  things  sank  to 

|lhe  bottom,  and  these  in  the  general  way  were  valuable.     I  saw  a 

aau  in  a  boat  with  a  great  long  tube  in  his  hands,  which  he  put 

down  into  the  sea  every  now  and  then,  and  looked  through,  and  then 

ttoved  on  and  took  another  observation. 

It  was  near  about  dinner-time,  so  I  thought  I'd  just  wait,  as  I  had 
Botliiu'  above  particular  to  do,  and  see  what  this  thing  was ;  so  when 
khe  man  came  on  shore,  "Mornin'  to  you,''  sais  I.  "That  was  an 
pful  wreck  that,  warn't  it  ?"  and  1  looked  as  dismal  as  if  I  had 

8t  somethin'  there  myself.    But  there  was  nothin'  very  awful  about 

for  everybody  was  saved ;  and  if  there  was  some  bales  and  boxes 
Dst,  why  iu  a  general  way  it's  good  for  trade.     But  I  said  awful 

rack,  for  I've  obsarvcJ  you  have  to  cant  a  little  with  the  world,  if 
^ou  want  even  common  civil  usage. 

In  fact,  in  calamities  I  never  knew  but  one  man  speak  the  truth, 
le  lived  near  a  large  range  of  barracks  that  was  burnt,  together 


fi/:   \;f* 


'if' 


94 


,i 


THE    WATER 


OLASSJ 


r  I  ■ 


"With  all  tho  houses  round  him,  but  ho  escaped  j  and  his  house  was 
insured.  Well,  he  mourned  dreadful  over  his  standing  house,  more 
than  others  did  over  their  fallen  ones.  He  said,  "  lie  was  ruinated; 
he  lived  by  the  barrack  expenditure,  and  the  soldiers  were  removed, 
and  the  barracks  were  never  to  be  rebuilt ;  and  as  he  was  insured, 
he'd  a  been  a  happy  man,  if  his  house  had  been  burnt,  and  ho  had 
recovered  the  amount  of  his  loss." 

Now  that  man  I  always  respected;  he  was  an  honest  man.  Other 
folks  would  have  pretended  to  bo  thankful  for  so  narrow  an  escape, 
but  thought  in  their  hearts  just  as  he  did,  only  they  wouldn't  be 
manly  enough  to  say  so.     But  to  get  back  to  my  story. 

"Awful  wrack  that!"  said  I,  dolefully. 

"  Well,  it  was  considerable,  but  it  might  have  been  wuss,"  said 
he,  quite  composed. 

Ah !  sais  I  to  myself,  I  see  how  it  is,  you  haint  lost  anything, 
that's  clear,  but  you  are  lookin'  for  somethin'. 

"  Sarching  for  gold  ?"  said  I,  laughin',  and  goin'  on  t'other  tack. 
"  Every  vessel,  they  say,  is  loaded  with  gold  now-a-days  ?" 

"  Well,"  sais  he,  smiling,  "  I  aint  sarching  for  gold,  for  it  aint  so 
plenty  on  this  coast ;  but  I  am  sarching  for  zinc :  there  arc  several 
rolls  of  it  there." 

"What  was  that  curious  tube,"  sais  I,  "if  I  might  be  so  bold  as 
to  ax?" 

"  Sartain,"  sais  he,  "  it's  a  water-glass.  The  bottom  of  that  tube 
has  a  large  plate  of  glass  in  it.  When  you  insert  the  tube  into  the 
sea,  and  look  down  into  it,  you  can  perceive  the  bottom  much  plainer 
than  you  can  with  a  naked  eye." 

"  Good  \"  sais  I ;  "  now  that's  a  wrinkle  on  my  horn.  I  daresay 
a  water-glass  is  a  common  thing,  but  I  never  heard  of  it  afore.  Might 
it  be  your  invention,  for  it  is  an  excellent  one." 

He  looked  up  suspicious  like. 

"  Never  heard  of  a  water-glass  ?"  he  said,  slowly.  "  May  I  ask 
what  your  name  mougbt  be?" 

"Sartaiuly,"  sais  I,  "friend;  you  answered  me  my  question 
civilly,  and  I  will  answer  yours.  I'm  Sam  Slick,  sais  I,  at  least 
what's  left  of  me." 

"Sam  Slick,  the  Clockmaker?"  sais  he 

"  The  same,"  said  I,  "  and  never  heard  of  a  water-glass  ?" 

"Never!  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  "I'm  not  so  simple  as  you  take 
me  to  be.  You  can't  come  over  mo  that  way,  but  you  are  welcome 
to  that  rise,  anyhow.     I  wish  you  good  morniu'." 

Now  that's  human  natur'  all  over.  A  man  I's  never  astonishd 
or  ashamed  that  he  don't  know  what  a nothcr  docs  ;  hut  he  is  svr- 
prised  at  the  (/ross  ignorance  of  the  other  in  not  know  in'  what  h 
does.  But  to  return.  If  instead  of  the  water-glass  (which  I  yow 
to  man  I  never  heard  of  it  before  that  day),  if  we  had  a  breaift-glass 


OR,     A    DAY-DREAM     OF    LIFE. 


06 


to  look  into  tho  heart,  and  read  what  is  wrote,  and  see  what  is 
passin'  there,  a  great  part  of  the  saints — them  that  don't  know  music 
or  paintin'  and  call  it  a  waste  of  precious  time,  and  can't  dance,  and 
call  it  wicked,  and  won't  go  to  parties,  because  they  are  so  stupid  no 
one  will  talk  to  them,  and  call  it  sinful  —  a  great  lot  of  the  saints 
would  pass  over  to  the  sinners.  "Well,  the  sinners  must  bo  added  to  - 
the  fools,  and  it  swells  their  numbers  up  considerable,  for  a  feller 
must  be  a  fool  to  be  a  sinner  at  all,  scein'  that  the  way  of  the  trans- 
gressors is  hard. 

Of  the  little  band  of  rael  salts  of  saints,  a   considerable  some 
must  be  added  to  the  fools'  ranks  too,  for  it  aint  every  pious  man 
that's  wise,  though  ho  may  have  sense  enough  to  be  good.     Arter. 
this  deduction,  the  census  of  them  that's  left  will  show  a  small  table,  . 
that's  a  fact.     When  the  devoted  city  was  to  be  destroyed,  Abraham 
begged  it  off  for  fifty  righteous  men.     And  then  for  forty-five,  and 
finally  for  ten ;  but  arter  all,  only  Lot,  his  wife,  and  two  daughters 
was  saved,  and  that  was  more  from  marcy  than  their  desarts,  for  they 
warnt  no  great  shakes  arter  all.     Yes,  the  breast-glass  would  work 
,  wonders,  but  I  don't  think  it  would  be  overly  safe  for  a  man  to  in- 
vent it ;  he'd  find  himself,  I  reckon,  some  odd  night  a  plaguey  sight 
nearer  tho  top  of  a  lamp-post,  and  farther  from  the  ground  than  was 
agreeable;  and  wouldn't  the  hypocrites  pretend  to  lament  him,  and 
say  be  was  a  dreadful  loss  to  mankind  ?     That  being  the  state  of 
the  case,  the  great  bulk  of  humans  may  be  classed  as  fools  and 
knaves.     The  last  are  the  thrashers  and  sword-fishes,  and  grampuses 
I  and  sharks  of  the  sea  of  life ;  and  the  other  the  great  shoal  of  com- 
I  men  fish  of  different  sorts,  that  seem  made  a-purpose  to  feed  these 
[hungry  onmarciful  critters  that  take  'em  in  by  the  dozen  at  one 
swoop,  and  open  their  mouths  wide,  and  dart  on  for  another  meal. 

Them's  the  boys  that  don't  know  what  dyspepsy  is.  Considera- 
Ible  knowin'  in  the  way  of  eatin',  too,  takin'  an  appertizer  of  sar- 
dines in  the  mornin'  afore  breakfastin'  on  macarel,  and  having  lob- 
ster sauce  with  their  cod-fish  to  dinner,  and  a  barrel  of  anchovies  to 
disgest  a  light  little  supper  of  a  boat-load  of  haddock,  halibut,  and 
flat  fish.  Yes,  yes  !  the  bulk  of  mankind  is  knaves  and  fools;  reli- 
gious knaves,  political  knaves,  legal  knaves,  quack  knaves,  trading 
knaves,  and  sarvcnt  knaves;  knaves  of  all  kinds  and  degrees,  from 
officers  with  gold  epaulettes  on  their  shoulders,  who  sometimes  con- 
descend to  relieve  (as  they  call  it)  a  fool  of  his  money  at  cards,  down 
to  thimble-rigging  at  a  fair. 

The  whole  continent  of  America,  from  one  end  of  it  to  the  other, 
lis  overrun  with  political  knaves  and  quack  knaves.  They  are  the 
greatest  pests  we  have.  One  undertakes  to  improve  the  constitution 
of  the  country,  and  the  other  the  constitution  of  the  body,  and  their 
evcrlastin'  tiukerin'  injures  both.  How  in  natur  folks  can  be  so 
taken  in,  I  don't  know.     Of  all  knaves,  I  consider  them  two  the 


'  'U- 


\t   i 


li        r. 


>,    I 


l! 


i'!il|!|)'f  i 

mm- 

li'l'iil  ■ 


96 


THE    WATER-aLABS! 


v^l 


most  (langcroiw,  for  both  deal  in  poisonous  deadly  medicines.  One 
pysonij  people's  minds,  and  the  other  their  bodies.  One  unsettles 
their  heads,  and  the  other  their  stomachs,  and  I  do  believe  in  my 
heart  and  soul  that's  the  cause  we  Yankees  look  so  thin,  hollow  in 
the  cheeks,  narrow  in  the  chest,  and  gander-waistcd.  Wo  boafst  of 
being  the  happiest  people  in  the  world.  The  President  tells  the 
Congress  that  lockrum  every  year,  and  every  year  the  Congress  sais, 
"Tho'  there  ain't  much  truth  in  you,  old  slippiry-go-easy,  at  no  time, 
ihat^s  no  lie  ao  any  i-ate."  Every  young  lady  sais,  "  I  guess  that's 
a  fact."  And  evjry  boy  that  coaxed  a  little  hair  to  grow  on  his 
upper  lip,  puts  hi?,  arm  round  his  gall's  waist  and  sais,  "That's  as 
true  as  rates,  we  are  happy,  and  if  you  would  only  name  the  day, 
we  shall  be  still  happier."  Well,  this  is  all  fine  talk ;  but  what  is 
bein'  a  happy  people '/  Let's  see,  for  hang  me  if  I  think  wo  are  a 
happy  people. 

When  I  was  a  boy  to  night-school  with  my  poor  dear  old  friend, 
the  minister,  and  arterwards  in  life  as  his  companion,  he  was  for  ever- 
lastingly correctin'  me  about  words  that  I  used  wrong,  so  one  day, 
having  been  down  to  the  sale  of  the  effects  of  the  great  llevolutionary 
General,  Zaddoc  Seth,  of  Holmes'  Hole,  what  does  he  do  but  buy  a 
Johnson's  Dictionary  for  me  in  two  volumes,  each  as  big  as  a  clock, 
and  a  little  grain  heavier  than  my  wooden  ones.  "  Now,"  sais  he, 
"  do  look  out  words,  Sam,  so  as  to  know  what  you  are  a-talking 
about." 

One  day,  I  recollect  it  as  well  as  if  it  was  yesterday  —  and  if  I 
loved  a  man  on  earth,  it  was  that  man  —  I  told  him  if  I  could  only 
go  to  the  Thanksgiving  Bull,  I  should  bo  quite  happy. 

"Happy!"  said  he,  "what's  thatr"' 

"Why  happy,"  sais  I,  "is  —  bein'  happy,  to  be  sure." 

"  Why  that's  of  course,"  sais  he,  "  a  dollar  is  a  dollar,  but  that 
don't  inform  me  what  a  dollar  represents.  I  told  you  you  used  words 
half  the  time  you  did'ut  understand  the  meanin'  of" 

"  But  I  do,"  sais  I ;  happy  means  being  so  glad,  your  heart  is 
ready  to  jump  out  of  its  jacket  for  joy." 

"Yes  —  yes,"  sais  he;  "and  I  suppose  if  it  never  jumped  back 
again,  you  would  be  unhappy  for  all  the  rest  of  your  life.  I  see  you 
have  a  very  clear  conception  of  what  '  happy'  means.  Now  look  it 
out ;  let  us  see  what  the  great  and  good  Dr.  Johnson  says." 

"  He  sais  it  is  a  state  where  the  desires  are  satisfied  —  lucky  — 
ready." 

"  Now,"  said  he,  '^at  most,  as  it  applies  to  you,  if  you  get  leave 
to  go  to  the  ball,  and  you  may  go,  for  I  approbate  all  innocent 
amusements  for  young  people,  you  would  be  only  lucky ;  and  in  a 
stale  where  one  desire  is  satisfied.  It  appears  to  me,"  said  he,  and 
he  put  one  leg  over  the  other,  and  laid  his  head  a  little  back,  as  if  be 
was  a-goin'  to  lay  down  the  law,  "  that  that  eminent  man  has  omitted 


;  ( 


OE,     A     DAY-DREAM     OP    LIFE. 


07 


another  sense  in  wliicli  this  word  is  properly  used — namely,  a  state 
of  joyfulucsa — HgUt-hcjirtcdness — njcrriment,  but  wo  won't  stop  to 
iinjuirc  into  that.  It  is  great  presumption  for  the  likes  of  me  to 
attempt  to  critieise  Dr.  Johnson.'' 

Poor  dear  old  soul,  he  was  a  wiser  and  a  modester  man  than  ever 
the  old  doetor  was.  Fact  is,  old  dictionary  was  very  fond  of  playin' 
first  liddlo  wherever  he  was.  Thundcrm'  loiuj  words  aint  wisdonby 
and  stoppin'  a  critter's  ivouth  is  more  apt  to  improve  his  wind  than 
his  ondcrstandin' . 

"You  may  go  to  the  ball,"  said  he;  "and  I  hope  you  may  bo 
happy  in  the  last  sense  I  have  given  it." 

*'  Thank  you,  Sir,"  said  I,  and  off  I  cuts  hot  foot,  when  ho  called 
me  back ;  I  had  a  great  mind  to  pretend  not  to  hear  him,  for  I  was 
afraid  he  was  a-goin'  to  renig — . 

"  Sum,"  said  he,  and  he  held  out  his  band  and  took  mine,  and 
looked  very  seriously  at  me ;  "  Sam,  ray  son,"  said  he,  "  now  that  I 
have  granted  you  permission  to  go,  there  is  one  thing  I  want  you  tc 
promise  mc.  I  think  myself  you  will  do  it  without  any  promise,  but 
I  should  like  to  have  your  word." 

"  I  will  observe  any  direction  you  may  give  me,  Sir,"  said  I. 

*'  Sam,"  said  he,  and  his  face  grew  so  long  and  blank,  I  hardly 
knew  what  was  a-comin'  next,  "  Sam,"  said  he,  "  don't  let  your  heart 
jump  out  of  its  jacket,"  and  he  lah  ''jack  in  his  chair,  and  laughed 
like  anythin',  in  fact  I  could  not  help  laughin'  myself  to  find  it  all 
eeud  in  a  joke. 

Presently  he  let  go  my  hand,  took  both  hisn,  and  wipod  his  eyes, 
for  tears  of  fu'^  were  in  'em. 

"Minister,"     lis  I,  "  will  you  let  me  just  say  a  word  'i^* 

"Yes,"  sais  he. 

"  Well,  according  to  Dr.  Johnson's  third  sense,  that  was  a  happy 
thought,  for  it  was  *  ready.'  " 

"Well,  I  won't  say  it  warn't,"  said   he;   "and,  Sam,  in  that 
sense  you  are  likely  to  be  a  happy  man  all  your  life,  I'or  you  are 
.always  'ready;'  take  care  you  aint  too  sharp." 

But  to  go  back,  for  I  go  round  about  sometimes.  Tho'  Daniel 
Webster,  said  I,  was  like  a  good  sportin'-dog,  if  I  did  beat  round  tho 
.  bush,  I  always  put  up  the  birds.  What  is  a  happy  people 't  If  havin' 
j  enough  to  cat  and  drink,  with  rather  a  short,  inst  a  little  mite  nnd 
[nioscl  too  short  an  allowance  of  time  to  s'.v:>;'0  it,  is  bein'  happy, 
[then  we  are  so  beyond  doubt.  If  livin'  in  a  frco  ■•ouutry  like  Maine, 
where  you  arc  compelled  to  drink  stagnant  sv-iu^.. -water,  but  can  eat 
I  opium  like  a  Chinese,  if  you  choose,  is  bein'  iiappy,  then  we  are  a 
I  '^''^PPy  people. 

Just  walk  thro'  the  happy  streets  of  our  happy  villages,  and  look 
I  at  the  men — all  busy — in  a  hurry,  thoughtful,  anxious,  full  of  busi- 
ness, toilin'  from  day  dawn  to  night — look  at  the  women,  the  dear 
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critters,  .a  little,  just  a  little  care-worn,  time-worn,  climate-wom, 
pretty  as  angels,  but  not  quite  so  merry.  Follow  them  in  the  even 
ing,  and  see  where  them  crowds  are  going  to ;  why  to  hear  abolition 
lectures,  while  their  own  free  niggers  are  starviu*,  and  are  taught 
that  Etealin'  is  easier  than  workin'.  What  the  plague  have  they  ta 
do  wii-i  the  affairs  of  the  south  ?  Or  to  hold  communion  with  evil 
spirits  by  means  of  biology,  for  the  deuce  a  thing  else  is  that  or  mes- 
meric tricks  either  ?  Or  going  to  hear  a  feller  rave  at  a  protracted 
meetin',  for  the  twelfth  night,  to  convince  them  how  happy  they 
ought  to  be,  as  more  than  half  of  them,  at  least,  are  to  be  damned, 
to  a  dead  sartainty?  Or  hear  a  mannish,  raw-boned-looking  old 
maid,  lecture  on  the  rights  of  women ;  and  call  on  them  to  emanci- 
pate themselves  from  the  bondage  imposed  on  them,  of  wearing  pet- 
ticoats below  their  knees?  If  women  are  equal  to  men,  why 
shouldn't  their  dress  be  equal  ?  What  right  has  a  feller  to  wear  a 
kilt  only  as  far  as  his  knee,  and  compel  his  slave  of  a  wife  to  wear 
hern  down  to  her  ankle  ?  Draw  your  scissors,  galls,  in  this  high 
cause  J  cut,  rip,  and  tear  away,  and  make  short  work  of  it.  Kend 
your  garments,  and  Heaven  will  bless  them  that's  '  In-kneed.'  W  ell, 
if  this  is  bein'  happy,  then  we  are  a  happy  people." 

Folks  must 'be  more  cheerful  and  light-hearted  than  we  be  to  be 
happy.  They  must  laugh  more.  Oh  !  I  like  to  hear  a  good  jolly 
laugh,  a  regular  nigger  larf — yagh  !  yagh !  yagh !  My  brother,  the 
doctor,  who  has  an  immense  practice  among  the  ladies,  told  me  a 
very  odd  story  about  this. 

Sais  he,  "  Sam,  cheerfulness  is  health,  and  health  is  happiness,  as 
near  as  two  things  not  exactly  identical,  can  be  alike.  I'll  tell  you 
the  secret  of  my  practice  among  the  ladies.  Cheerfulness  appears 
to  be  the  proper  remedy,  and  it  is  in  most  cases.  I  extort  a  promise 
of  inviolable  secrecy  from  the  patient,  and  secure  the  door,  for  I 
don't  want  my  prescription  to  be  known ;  then  I  bid  her  take  off  her 
shoes,  and  lie  down  on  the  sofa,  and  then  I  tickle  her  feet  to  make 
her  laugh  (for  some  folks  are  so  stupid,  all  the  good  stories  in  the 
world  wouldn't  make  them  laugh),  a  good,  joyous  laugh,  not  too  long, 
for  that  is  exhaustin',  and  this  repeated  two  or  three  times  a-day, 
with  proper  regimen,  effects  the  cure." 

Yes,  cheerfulness  is  health,  the  opposite,  melancholy,  is  disease. 
I  defy  any  people  to  be  happy,  when  they  hear  nothin'  from  mornin' 
till  night,  when  business  over,  but  politics  and  pills,  representatives 
and  lotions.  ,* 

When  I  was  at  Goshen  the  other  day,  I  asked  Dr.  Carrot,  how 
many  doctors  there  were  in  the  town. 

"One  and  three-quarters,"  said  he,  very  gravely.  ■'      * 

;    Well,  knowing  how  doctors  quarrel,  and  undervalue  each  other  in 

small  places,  I  could  hardly  help  laughing  at  the  decidedly  dispara« 


OB 


A    DAY-DREAM     OP    LIFE. 


99 


ging  way  he  spoke  of  Dr.  Parsnip,  bis  rival,  especially  as  there  was 
Bomething  rather  new  in  it. 

"  Three-quarters  of  a  medic  I  man  !"  said  I.  '■  I  suppose  you 
moan,  your  friend  has  not  a  r 'gular-bui.lt  education,  and  don't  de- 
servo  the  name  of  a  doctor."  .  "-''■    ••  -A^  '?\ 

"  Oh  no !  Sir,"  said  he,  "  I  jould  not  speak  of  any  practitioner, 
however  ignorant,  in  that  way.  What  I  mean  is  just  this  :  Groshen 
would  maintain  two  doctors ;  bi  t  quack  medicines,  which  are  sold  at 
all  the  shops,  take  about  three-quarters  of  the  support  that  would 
otherwise  be  contributed  to  another  medical  man." 

Good,  sais  I,  to  myself.  A  doctor  and  three-quarters  !  Come,  I 
won't  forget  that,  and  here  it  is. 

Happy !  If  Dr.  Johnson  is  right,  then  I  am  right.  He  says 
happiness  means  a  state  where  all  our  desires  are  satisfied.  Well 
now,  none  of  our  desires  are  satisfied.  We  are  told  the  affairs  of  the 
nation  are  badly  managed,  and  I  believe  they  be,  politicians  have 
mainly  done  that.  We  are  told  our  insides  are  wrong,  and  I  beHeve 
they  be ,  quack  doctors  and  their  medicines  have  mainly  done  that. 
Happy !  How  the  plague  can  we  be  happy,  with  our  heads  unset- . 
tied  by  politics,  and  our  stomachs  by  medicines.  It  can't  be;  it  aint 
in  natur',  it's  onpossible.  If  I  was  wrong,  as  a  boy,  in  my  ideas  of 
happiness,  men  are  only  full-grown  boys,  and  are  just  us  wrong  as 
I  was.  ':^^^:>i 

I  ask  again  what  is  happiness  ?  It  aint  bein'  idle,  tha'^/s  a  fact — 
no  idle  man  or  woman  ever  wab  happy,  since  the  world  began.  Eve 
was  idle,  and  that's  the  way  she  got  tempted,  poor  critter ;  employ- 
ment gives  both  appetite  and  di^  jstion.  I>uti/  makes  pleasure  doubly 
sweet  uy  contrast.  When  the  harness  is  off,  if  the  work  aint  too 
hard,  a  critter  likes  to  kick  up  his  heels.  When  pleasure  is  the 
business  of  li/e,  it  ceases  to  be  2:)leasure ;  and  when  it's  o.U  labour 
and  no  play,  work  like  an  onsidffed  saddle  cuts  into  the  very  bone. 
Neither  labour  nor  idleness  has  a  road  that  leads  to  happiness,  one . 
has  no  room  for  the  heart  and  the  other  corrupts  it.  Hard  work  is 
the  best  of  the  two,  for  that  has  at  all  events  sound  sleep — the  other 
has  restless  pillows  and  onrefrewhin'  slumbers — one  is  a  misfortune, 
the  other  is  a  curse;  and  monay  aint  happiness,  that's  as  clear  as 

mud.  :  -^Vi,;; 

There  was  a  feller  to  Slickvijle  once  called  Dotey  Conky,  aha  fie 
sartinly  did  look  dotey  like  lun\ber  that  aint  squared  down  enough 
to  cut  the  san  off.  He  was  always  a  wishing.  I  used  to  call  him 
Wishey  Washey  Dotey.  "  Sam,"  he  used  to  say,  "  I  wish  I  waa 
rich."  -   -  ,r ,. 

"  So  do  I,"  I  used  to  say. 

"  If  I  had  fifty  thousand  dollars,"  he  said,  '♦  I  wouldn't  call  the 
President  my  cousin."     '  '  pi^ '  ■   .•       '  ^   •   ?    '■'  v  '*>^'^  t-" 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  I  can  do  that  now,  poor  as  I  be ;  he  is  no  cousin 


a44^. 


."^ij  Lil\^i^  \..VL\^\al..lu.^iLrJ.t.2::i:Ch\t^^i' 


\ 


100 


OLD    SARBAPARILLA    PIL8 


of  mine,  and  if  ho  was  hcM  bo  no  credit,  for  ho  is  no  great  shakos. 
Gentl<3inen  now  don't  set  up  for  that  office ;  they  can't  live  on  it." 

*^)h,  I  don't  uioau  that,"  ho  said,  "but  fifty  thousand  dollars, 
Sam,  only  think  of  that ;  aint  it  a  great  sum,  that ;  it's  all  I  should 
ask  in  this  world  of  providence :  if  I  had  that,  I  should  he  the 
happiest  man  that  ever  was." 

"Dotey,"  sais  I,  "would  it  cure  you  of  the  colic?  you  know  how 
you  suflFer  from  that." 

"  Phoo,"  sais  he. 

"Well,  what  would  you  do  with  it?"  sais  I. 

"  I  would  go  and  travel;"  sais  he,  "  and  get  into  society  and  aee 
the  world." 

"  Would  it  educate  you,  Dotey,  at  your  age  give  you  French  and 
German,  Latin  and  Greek,  and  so  on  ?'^ 

"  Hire  it,  Sam,"  sais  he,  touching  his  noso  with  his  fore-finger. 

"And  manners,"  sais  I,  " could  you  hire  that ?  I  will  tell  you 
what  it  would  do  for  you.  You  could  get  drunk  every  night  if  you 
liked,  surround  yourself  with  spongers,  horse  jockies,  and  foreign 
counts,  and  go  to  the  dovii  by  rail-road  instead  of  a  one  horse  shay." 

Well  as  luck  would  have  it,  he  drew  a  prize  in  the  lottery  at  New 
Orleans  of  just  that  sum,  and  in  nine  months  he  was  cleaned  out, 
and  sent  to  the  asylum.  It  taint  cash  then  that  gains  it }  that's  as 
plain  as  preaching.     What  is  it  then  that  confers  it  ? 

"  A  rope,"  said  Blowhard,  as  we  reached  the  side  of  the  '  Nan- 
tasket,'  "  in  with  your  oars  my  men.  Now^  Mr.  Slick,  lot's  take  a 
^o%Q  oi  SarsipariUj/ pills."      ~;.^:;    v-    :; ,-    -l^^^r^wvi.o*;  r^ 


^-  :'^^J^':'. 


'.''■•-■t-^^- 


.'i^-i"-^]y^\,\ 


CHAPTER  XI, 


OLD  SARSAPARILLA  PILLS. 


"  Come,  Mr.  Attachy,"  said  Blowhard,  as  we  mounted  the  deck 
of  the  'Nantasket,'  "let's  go  down  to  Apothecary's  Hall;"  and  he 
larfed  agin  in  great  good  humour. 

When  we  entered  the  cabin,  which  sartainly  looked  more  like  an 
herb  and  medicine  shop  than  anythin'  else,  wo  found  the  Capting 
seated  at  the  table,  with  a  pair  of  small  scales  in  his  hand,  carefully 
adjustin'  the  weight  of  somothin'  that  had  just  been  prepared  by  a 
boy,  who  sat  in  the  corner,  and  was  busy  with  a  pestle  and  mortar. 

"  How  are  you.  Doctor  ?"  fc.  lid  Blowhard,  in  his  blandest  manner. 
**  This  is  Mr.  Slick.  We  have  come  to  ask  you  if  you  will  take  a 
patient  on  board,  who  wants  to  return  home,  and  whom  Providence 
has  just  sent  you  in  here  to  relieve  ?"  .^    . 


t 


OLD    SARSAPARILLA    PILLS. 


101 


"What'a  tho  matter  with  him?"  inquired  the  quack  Captin,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  had  but  to  hear  and  to  cure. 

Love  explained  briefly  the  state  of  the  case ;  and,  having  obtained 
his  consent,  asked  me  to  request  one  of  the  hands  to  hoist  a  flag,  a0 
the  signal  agreed  upon  for  bringing  tho  invalid  on  board. 

"  Proud  to  see  you,  Mr.  Slick, '°  said  the  quack  Captin.  "  Take 
a  chair,  and  bring  yourself  to  an  anchor.  You  are  welcome  on 
board  the  'Nantasket.'  " 

Instead  of  an  aged  man,  with  a  white  beard,  large  spectacles,  and 
an  assumed  look  of  groat  experience,  as  I  expected  to  have  seen, 
from  the  nickname  of  "  Old  Sarsaparilla  Pills,"  given  to  him  by  the 
skipper,  I  was  surprised  to  find  he  w?3  not  past  five-and-thirty  years 
of  age.  He  was  a  sort  of  French  craft  on  a  vigorous  Yankee  stock. 
His  chin  and  face  wore  covered  with  long  black  hair,  out  of  which 
twinkled  a  pair  of  bright,  sparkling,  restless  eyes.  His  dress  and 
talk  was  New  England,  but  French  negligence  covered  all,  and  was 
as  onpleasant  and  disorderly  as  tho  deck;  for  the  Yankees  ?re  a 
neat  people,  in  a  ginerul  way,  and  like  to  poo  things  snug  and  tidy. 
If,  in  his  appearance,  ho  was  half  French  and  half  Yankee,  it  was 
plain  he  was  also  half  knave  and  half  goney.  The  only  thing  I 
saw  to  like  about  him  was,  that  he  was  a  man  with  a  theory ;  and  a 
theory,  to  my  mind,  whether  in  political  economy  or  in  medicine,  is 
the  most  beautiful  thing  in  the  world. 

They  say  an  empty  bag  can't  stand  straight.  Well,  who  the 
plague  cares  if  it  can't,  when  you  have  nothin'  to  put  into  it  ?  for  it 
would  only  be  in  the  way,  and  take  up  room,  if  it  could.  Now,  a 
theory  will  stand  as  straight  as  a  buUrush,  without  a  fact  at  all. 
Arguments,  probabilities,  and  lies  will  do  just  as  well.  But  if  folks 
must  have  facts,  why  the  only  plan  is  to  manufacture  'em.  What's 
the  use  of  the  Crystal  Palace,  and  all  its  discoveries,  if  statesmen 
can't  invent  facts'?  Sometimes  one  fact  depends  on  another,  and 
that  on  a  third,  and  so  on.  Well,  to  make  anything  of  them,  you 
must  reason.  Well,  what  on  airth  is  the  use  of  reason  ?  Did  you 
ever  see  a  man  that  could  reason?  A  dog  can,  but  then  a  dog  has 
some  sense.  If  he  comes  to  a  place  where  four  roads  meet,  he  stops 
and  considers,  and  weighs  all  tho  probabilities  of  the  case,  pro  and 
con^  for  each  road.  At  last,  he  makes  up  his  mind ;  goes  on  confi- 
dent; and  ninety-nine  times  out  of  a  hundred,  he  is  right.  But 
place  a  man  there,  and  what  would  he  do  ?  Why,  he'd  look  like  a 
ravin',  distracted  fool :  he'd  scratch  his  head,  and  say,  "  I  don't 
know,  I  declare;  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure;"  the  only  thing  the 
critter  is  sure  about.  And  then  he'd  sit  down  on  a  stone,  and  wait 
till  some  one  come  by  to  tell  him. 

Well,  after  waitin'  there  till  he  is  cen  amost  tired  out,  the  first 
man  that  rides  by,  he'd  jump  up  so  sudden,  he'd  scare  the  horse, 
that  shies  awfully,  and  nearly  spills  tho  rider;  and  wouldn't  he  get 
9* 


'fl;P!l^'l 


'—  ■         '^^^ 


102 


OLD    SABSAPABILLA    PILLS. 


r 


I' 


more  blessings  thac  would  last  him  a  whole  whalin'  voyage  ?  Well, 
the  next  man  that  comes  by,  drivin'  in  a  gig,  he  goes  more  coolly  to 
work  i/(}  stop;  when  traveller  pulls  cit  a  pistol,  and  sais,  '^  Stand  off, 
you  villain !  I  am  armed,  and  will  fire  I"  Well,  the  third  sets  a 
fierce  dog  on  him,  and  asks  him  whut  he  is  a  doin'  of  there  ?  And 
when  he  inquires  the  way,  he  puts  his  finger  to  his  nose,  and  says, 
"That  cat  won't  jump,  old  boy."  Well,  the  next  chap  that  comes 
along,  is  a  good-natured  feller.  He  is  a  whistlin  a  tune,  or  singing 
an  air,  as  light-hearted  as  you  please  j  and  a  hittin'  of  loose  stones 
with  his  cane,  as  he  trips  along ;  and  when  he  axes  him  the  way,  he 
shows  it  to  him  as  perlite  as  possible,  and  says  it  is  the  very  road  ho 
is  going,  and  will  walk  abit  with  him  to  the  next  turn,  where  they 
must  part.  ;.,:.  ■u:.y>-,''':--'(^.^,^'''  '--]  ■^'-.     '^^.t^' 

This  world  aint  so  bad,  after  all,  as  it  looks ;  there  are  some  good- 
natured  folks  in  it,  that's  a  fact,  that  will  do  a  civil  thing  now  and 
then  for  nothin'  but  the  pleasure,  but  they  aint  quite  33  thick  as 
blackberries,  I  can  tell  you.       V"<.  <^;^.:,.;;..v  ,*' ■.-'"~     ;,   .^v;^ 

VV^ell,  at  the  turn  of  the  road  there  is  an  ale-house,  and  the  good- 
natured  st/anger  pulls  out  some  money,  like  a  good  Samaritan,  and 
gives  him  a  drink  for  nothin'. 

"Now,"  sais  he,  "friend,  suppose  you  qualify ?" ^^''    •  '*  ,u.">>' 

"  Qualify  ?"  sais  the  critter,  more  puzzled  than  he  was  at  the  four 
roads.  "  Qualify !  does  that  mean  to  stand  treat  ?  for  if  it  doeth,  I 
don't  care  if  I  doos." 

"Come,  none  of  that  nonsense,  my  good  feller,"  sais  the  other, 
whose  air  and  manner  is  changed  in  a  minute,  so  that  he  don't  look 
like  the  same  man.  "  Come,  come,  you  aint  so  soft  as  that.  You  are 
listed.  Fee.',  in  your  waistcoat  poctot,  and  there  is  her  Majesty's 
shilling/' 

"Danged  if  I  do,"  sais  this  vartuous  and  reasonable  being; 
"danged  if  I  do;  I'll  fight  till  I  die  fust — "  when  he  is  knocked 
dpwn,  hears  a  whistle,  and  three  men  come  in,  iron  him  to  another 
feller  that  didn't  know  the  read  any  better  than  him,  and  off  he  is 
marched  to  see  his  officer. 

I  saw  that  critter  mountin'  guard  at  the  Ordnance  Gate,  at  Halifax, 
last  winter  at  night,  mercury  sixteen  below  zero,  cold  enough  amost 
to  freeze  the  hair  off  of  a  dog's  bacic.  That's  because  he  couldn't 
reason.  Little  doggy  we've  seen  could  reason  and  reason  well,  and 
was  home  half  an  hour  before  ^  thiri  een-pence  a-day'  was  listed,  to 
have  a  finger,  or  a  toe,  or  an  ear  fuze  off  on  duty.  There  is  no 
pension  for  a  toe,  unless  it's  the  goui  in  an  old  admiral  or  gineral's 
toe. 

No,  reasonin'  is  no  good.  That  th,- 1  is  good  reasonin'  aint  market- 
able, bad  reasonin'  is  like  some  factory  cloth,  half  cotton,  half  old 
clothes,  carded  over  agin'  at  Manchester,  and  is  low-priced,  just  fit 
for  fellers  that  don't  know  the  way,  and  get  listed  under  a  party 


illHi  ijl>llll«lill»M'HiW»ii.H>»llBltll*r 


"^gpP 


6LD    SARSAPARILLA    PILLS. 


108 


leader.  That's  the  case  too  with  free-traders,  they  sing  out  *  cheap 
bread  j'  it  don't  want  rcasonin'  except  cheap  reasonin'.  Don't  cheap 
bread  cost  less  than  dear  bread  ?  Why  yes,  in  course  it  does.  Well 
then,  fre* -trade  ^oes  that;  don't  you  wish  you  may  be  better  of  it.' 
No,  reasonin'  is  no  good,  and  facts  are  no  good ;  for  they  arc  as 
cheap  as  words  which  only  cost  a  halfpenny  a  hundred,  and  two  far- 
things change  given  back. 

I  like  a  theory  j  it  is  a  grand  thing  to  work  a  farm  by  when  you 
have  no  experience,  and  govern  a  nation  by  when  the  electors  are  as 
wise  as  that  are  recruit,  that  couldn't  even  follow  his  nose.  Captin 
Furlong  had  a  theory,  and  hadn't  he  as  good  a  right  to  have  one  as 
Peel,  or  any  other  practitioner,  either  in  politics,  or  medicme,  or 
farmin',  or  anythin'  else  ?     Why  to  be  sure  he  had. 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  and  he  put  one  leg  over  the  other,  threw 
his  head  back,  and  gave  me  a  sort  of  fixed  stare,  just  one  of  those 
stares  you  see  a  feller  now  and  then  put  on  who  shuts  to  his  ears 
and  opens  his  eyes  wide,  as  much  as  to  say  "  now  don't  interrupt  me, 
for  I  mean  to  have  all  the  talk  to  myself."  Whenever  I  see  a  critter 
do  that,  I  am  sure  to  stop  him  every  minute,  for  I  have  no  notion  of 
a  feller  taking  me  like  a  lamb,  and  tying  me  hand  and  foot  to  offer 
up  as  a. sacrifice  to  his  vanity.  "Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  "I  have  a 
theory." 

"'Zactly,"  said  I,  "it's  just  what  you.ought  to  have;  yon  can  no 
more  get  on  in  medicine  without  a  theory  to  carry  out,  than  a  receipt 
to  work  by.  I  knowed  a  chap  onct— "  but  he  gave  me  the  dodge, 
cut  in  agin,  and  led  off. 

"  I  have  a  theory  that  for  every  disease  natur*  has  provided  a  re- 
medy, if  we  could  only  find  it. " 

"'Zactly,"  said  I,  "let  natur'  alone,  and  nine  times  ou'  of  ten  she 
will  effect  a  cure ;  it's  my  theory  that  more  folks  die  of  the  doctor 
than  the  disease.     I  knew  a  feller  onct — "  but  he  headed  me  agin. 

"  Now  this  remedy  is  to  be  found  in  simples,  herbs,  barks,  vege- 
tables, and  so  on.  The  aborigines  of  no  country  ever  were  sappers 
and  miners,  Mr.  Slick,  many  of  them  were  so  ignorant  as  not  even 
to  know  the  use  of  fire,  and  therefore  the  remedy  was  never  intended 
to  be  hid,  like  mercury  and  zinc,  and  what  not,  in  the  beeowels  of 
the  earth." 

"  'Zactly,"  said  I,  "  but  in  the  beeowels  of  the  patient." 

He  lifted  up  his  hairy  upper  lip  at  that,  and  backed  it  agin  his 
nose,  for  all  the  world  as  you  have  seed  a  horse  poke  tut  his  head, 
and  strip  his  mouth,  that  was  rather  proud  of  his  teeth ;  but  he 
went  on : 

"  There  is  a  specific  and  an  antidote  for  every  thin'  in  natur*." 

"  'Zactly,"  sais  I.  "  Do  you  know  an  antidote  for  fleas  ?  for  I  do. 
It's  a  plant  found  in  every  sizable  sarce  garden;  they  hate  it  like 
pyson.    I  never  travel  without  it.  When  I  was  in  Italy  last,  I  slept 


\ 


104 


DLD    eABSAPARILLA    PILLS. 


■p 


■  t, 


^^^ 


!j 


w 


in  a  double-bedded  room  with  the  Honourable  Erastus  Cassina,  a 
senator  from  Alligator  Gully  to  Congress,  and  the  fleas  was  awful 
thicki '  So  I  jist  took  out  of  the  pocket  of  my  drcssin'-gown  four 
little  bags  of  this  '  flea-antidote ;'  two  I  put  on  the  bed,  and  two 
under  it.  Oh  I  if  there  warn't  a  flight  in  Egypt  that  night,  it's  a 
pity  1  In  a  few  minutes,  Erastus  called  out : 
" '  Slick !  Slick  I*  said  he,  '  are  you  awake  1' 

"  '  What  in  natur'  is  the  matter  V  sais  I. 

" '  Oh,  the  fleas  !  the  fleas !'  said  he.  '  Clouds  on  'em  are  lightin' 
on  vcy  bed,  and  I  shall  be  devoured  alive.  They  are  wus  than  alli- 
gatoi,:^  for  thei/  do  the  job  for  you  in  two  twos;  but  these  imps  of 
darkness  nibble  you  up,  and  take  all  night  to  it.  They  are  so  'spry, 
you  can't  catch  'em,  and  so  small  you  can't  shoot  'em.  I  do  believe 
every  flea  in  the  house  is  coming  here.' 

"'That's  the  cane-juice  that's  in  you,'  sais  I;  'you  are  the 
sweetest  man  alive — all  sugar ;  they  are  no  fools,  are  fleas.' 

" '  Do  tbey  bother  you  ?'  said  he. 

" '  No,'  sais  -I,  '  I  hante  one.' 

"  *  Then,'  said  he,  '  let  me  turn  in  with  you,  friend  Slick,  that's  a 
good  feller,  for  I'mdn  an  awful  state.' 

"  *  That  cat  won't  jump.  Senator,'  sais  I,  '  for  they  will  foller  you 
here  too,  for  the  sake  of  the  cane-juice.  You  must  drink  vinegar 
and  get  sour,  and  smoke  tobacky  and  pyson  them.'  Now,  Capting," 
sais  /,  "  I  have  an  antidote  for  bugs  too — better,  simpler,  and  shorter 
than  any  'pothecary's  ointments.  I  hold  them  two  critters  to  be  the 
pest  of  the  world.  The  Nova  Scotia  Indgians  call  fleas  waUcum- 
fastK,  and  bugs  loalkum-shws.  They  say  fleas  travel  so  fast,  they 
can't  shake  'em  off. 

"  Now  I  have  a  theory  about  fleas.  I  don't  believe  one  word  of 
history  about  the  Gothsj  and  Vandals,  and  Huns.  I  believe  it  was 
an  irruption  of  fleas  that  followed  the  legions  back,  and  overrun 
Rome.  And  my  facts  are  as  good  as  Gibbon's  for  a  theory  any  day. 
I  told  that  story  about  the  fleas  to  the  Pope,  who  larfed  ready  to  kill 
himself,  but  kept  a  scratchin'  rather  ondignified  all  the  time.  *  Mr. 
Slick,'  said  he,  *  I  will  give  you  a  thousand  dollars  for  that  receipt,' 
and  he-  smiled  very  good-natured ;  '  for  fleas,'  said  he,  '  have  no  re- 
spect for  the  Church.'  But  our  minister  to  St.  James's,  who  was  at 
Rome  at  the  time  on  business,  told  me  it  would  lower  our  great  na- 
tion for  an  Attache  to  sell  flea-antidotes  and  bug-exterminators,  and 
his  Holiness  and  I  didn't  trade. 

"But  if  a  man  was  to  travel  with  that  little  simple  remedy 
through  Portugal,  Spain,  France  and  Italy,  Switzerland  and  shores 
of  the  Mediterranean  Sea,  where  fleas  are  as  big  as  horse-flies,  ho 
would  make  the  largest  fortin  ever  bagged  by  any  one  man  in  this 
universal  world." 


;.    ;,;('*■ 


>'/f  .6.    .■••:.  .  J.. 


■^ili.^i"iii|iKrtll  ii^nrtMlhfcliiilli    . 


OLD    SAR8APARILLA    PILLS. 


106 


"  Will  you  take  vhat  the  Pope  offered  you,  now  ?"  said  Capting 
Furlong. 

"  Oh,  oh,  old  boy !"  sais  T  to  myself,  ♦'  you  have  opened  your  cars, 
have  you  ?  I  thought  I'd  improve  your  hearin'  for  you.  Say  three,'' 
sais  I,  "  and  the  secret  and  patent  is  yours." 

"  Can't  come  it,"  sais  he. 

"  Then  I  withdraw  the  offer,  Capting  j  if  you  want  it  you  must 
pay  higher.  But  go  on;  you  interest  me  greatly.''  I  thought  I 
should  have  split  when  I  said  that,  for  I  hadn't  allowed  him  to  say 
a  word  hardly. 

''-  "  Well,"  said  he,  but  that  story  of  the  fleas  nearly  upset  him, 
'<  everything  has  its  specific  and  its  antidote.  Now  my  sarsaparilly 
pills  has  made  a  fortune  for  old  Jacob  Worldsend,  to  whom  I  was 
fool  enough  to  sell  the  secret  for  three  thousand  dollars,  and  it  railly 
is  all  it's  cracked  up  to  be.  But,  Mr.  Slick,  I  have  at  last  made  a 
discovery  that  will  astonish  the  world.  I  have  found  a  certain  and 
sure  cure  for  the  dropsy.  It  is  an  extract  of  a  plant  that  is  common 
•in  the  woods,  and  is  applied  externally  as  a  lotion,  and  internally  as 
pills.  I  have  proved  it;  I  have  the  affidavits  of  more  than  fifty 
people  I  have  cured."         -tr 

'  And  he  smote  the  table,  stioked  his  beard  down,  and  smiled  as 
pleased  as  a  feller  that's  found  a  nugget  of  gold  as  big  as  his  head, 
and  looked  at  me  with  a  self-satisfied  air,  as  much  as  to  say,  Mr. 
Slick,  don't  you  wish  you  was  me  ? 

Now,  thinks  T,  is  the  time  to  cut  in.  Whenever  a  feller  is  fool 
enough  to  stand  up  in  the  stirrups,  and  you  can  see  daylight  atw^en 
him  and  the  saddle,  that's  your  chance ;  give  Liim  a  lift  then  order 
one  foot,  and  he  is  over  in  no  time. 

"I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  I,  "  if  that  was  a  sartain  cure." 

"  Wonder,"  said  he,  "  why  I  know  it  is." 

"'Zactly,"  said  I;  "I  have  knowed  it  this  long  time — long  before 
you  ever  see  this  coast." 

"What  is  it?"  said  he.  "Write  the  word  down,  for  partitions 
have  ears."  -  ''    ^^■ 

Well,  I  took  the  pen,  as  if  I  was  going  to  do  as  he  asked,  and 
then  suddenly  stopped,  and  said : 

"Yes,  and  give  you  my  secret.  Oh,  no!  that  won't  do;  but  it 
has  a  long  stalk." 

"  Exactly,"  said  he. 

"And  leaves  not  onlike  those  of  a  horse-chesnut.* 

"Which  gender  is  it?''  said  he,  gaspin'  for  breath,  and  openin' 
of  his  ugly  mug,  till  it  looked  like  a  hole  made  in  a  bear-skin  of  a 
sleigh  to  pass  a  strap  through. 

"  Feminine  gender,"  said  I. 

"The  devil !"  said  he,  and  I  thought  he  would  have  fainted. 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  said  Blowhard,  "  I'll  back  you  agin  any  man  I  ever 


106 


OLD    SARSA.PARILLA    PILLS. 


"  1 


iM 


I 


>.: 


see  for  a  knowledge  of  tliings  ia  gineral,  and  men  and  women  in 
particular.     What  the  deuce  don't  you  know  ?" 

f'  Why  I'll  tell  you,"  suis  I,  "  wha'.  I  don't  know.  I  don't  know 
how  tne  plague  it  is  a  squid  can  swim  either  end  foremost,  like  a 
pinkey  steamer^  without  having  eyes  in  the  starn  also,  or  why  it 
hasn't  a  bono  at  all,  when  a  shad  is  chock  full  of  'em.  And  I 
can't  tell  why  it  can  live  five  days  out  of  water,  when  a  herring 
dies  slick  off  at  onct." 

*'  Well — well,"  said  Love:  "  who'd  a-thought  you'd  have  observed 
such  things  I" 

Furlong  was  so  astonished  at  my  having  his  dropsy  secret,  he 
didn't  hear  a  word  of  this  by-talk ;  but  lookin'  up,  half-soared,  hd 

said:  ;.:.,.>;  -;5.v  .     .,,;v,.jf 

"  That's  witchcraft." 

"Well,  it  might  be,"  said  I  "for  two  old  women  found  it  outj 
they  actilly  didn't  look  onlike  witches.  Old  Sal  Slaughtory,  that 
lives  to  the  Falls,  on  the  south  branch  of  the  river  at  the  Country 
Harbour,  and  keeps  a  glass  of  good  v/hiskey  for  salmon-fishers,  fust 
told  me,  and  old  Susan,  the  Indian  squaw,  was  the  one  that  discoV" 
ered  it." 

"  That  beats  the  "bugs,"  said  the  skipper,  looking  aghast,  and 
drawiu'  off  his  chair,  as  if  he  thought  old  Scratch  had  some  baud 
in  it.  .,     , 

"No,"  said  I,  "Not  the  bugs,  but  '.he  dropsy. '^\;  ■ .  .J- i,',, 

"Phoo!"  said  he;  "I  didn't  mean  that."  ;wirWo>;;^A^ 

"Don't  be  afeard  of  me,"  said  I;  "I  scorn  a  mean  action  as  I 
do  a  nigger.  I  won't  blow  you;  part  of  the  invention  is  yourn, 
and  that  is,  reducin'  it  to  pills,  for  the  old  gal  only  knew  of  the  de- 
coction, and  that  is  good  enough.  But  you  must  give  Sal  fifty  dol- 
lars when  you  take  out  the  patent ;  it  is  a  great  sum  to  her,  and  will 
fill  her  heart,  and  her  whiskey-cask  too." 

"  Done,"  said  he.  "  Now,  Mr.  Slick,  have  you  any  more  medi- 
cal secrets  of  natur'  ?" 

"  I  have,"  said  I.  "  I  can  cure  the  jaundice  in  a  few  days,  when 
the  doctors  can  make  no  fist  at  it,  any  how  they  can  fix  it ;  and  the 
remedy  is  on  every  farm,  only  they  don't  know  it.  I  can  cure  in  an 
hour  or  two  that  awful  ague  in  the  face,  that  folks,  and  specially 
women,  aro  .mbject  to ;  and  can  make  skin  grow  when  it  is  broken 
on  the  shin-bone,  and  other  awkward  places,  even  in  the  case  of  an 
old  man,  that^octors  only  make  wu3 ;  and  effect  a  hundred  other 
cures.  But  that's  neither  here  nor  there,  and  I  aint  a-goin'  to  set 
up  for  a  doctor;  I  didn't  come  to  br.;g,  but  lam.  That  is  a  great 
herbal  cure  you  have  got  hold  of  tho' — that's  a  fact,"  said  I. 
"  What  are  you  goin'  to  call  it  ?" 

"  Sure  and  safe  remedy  for  the  dropsy,"  said  he. 

"  You  won't  sell  a  bottle,"  sais  I.     "  Simple  will  do  very  well 


■'""""■  J^^^-^*"""^'' 


«iIii»H<i«M.#»MMM»« 


1-^, 


OLD    8ARSAPABILLA    PILLS. 


107: 


(vomen  in 


inside  (and  the  simpler  they  are  the  safer  they  be),  but  not  outside 
of  patent  medicines.  Call  it  *  the  Vegetable  Anasarca  Specific/  an 
*»a8y,  safe,  pleasant,  and  speedy  cure  for  anasarca,  or  dropsy  in  the 
skin ;  the  ascites,  or  dropsy  in  the  stomach ;  the  hydrops  pectoris, 
or  dropsy  in  the  breast  j  and  the  hydrocephalus,  or  dropsy  of  the 
brain.  Put  the  first  in  gold  letters  on  the  labels,  the  second  in 
green,  the  third  in  pinls:,  and  che  fourth  in  blue.  You  must  have  a 
fine  name  to  please  the  oar,  a  nice-looking  bottle  to  please  the  eye, 
and  Bomethin'  that  is  parmmed  and  smells  nice  to  please  the  nose. 
But  everything  is  in  a  name. 

•■;"When  I  was  to  Windsor,  Nova  Scotia,  I  met  an  old  nigger; 
which  we  call  a  Chesapeak  nigger,  one  of  them  Admiral,  Sir  John 
Warren,  was  fool  enou^li  to  give  Bluenoso  to  support.  I  was  then 
about  three  miles  out  of  the  village.  *  Well,  Cato  Cooper,'  sais  I, 
'  what  little  church  is  that  standin*  there  V 

" '  Dat  nigger  church,  massa,'  said  he.  '  Built  a  purpose  for 
niggers." 

"  '  Well,  I  hope  you  go  often  ?* 
~  "'Dat  is  jist  what  I  do,  massa.  College  students  preach  dere, 
and  dere  is  one  of  de  most  beautifuUest  preachers 'mong 'em  you  eber 
diti  hear  respond  to  a  text.  Oh  !  he  splains  it  rail  handsome.  Neb- 
ber  was  nuffin  like  it,  his  sarmon  is  more  nor  half  Latin  and  Greek, 
it  are  beautiful  to  hear,  there  aint  a  nigger  in  de  settlement  don't  go 
to  listen  to  him;  it's  rail  dictionary.  He  convarted  mo.  I  is  a 
Christian  now,  since  I  know  all  blacks  are  to  be  received  into  de 
kitchen  ob  Heaven.' 

"  Now  that  nigger  is  a  sample  of  mankind,  big  words  look  lar^jied, 
and  please  them. 

"Well,  I  have  a  theory  about  that,"  said  the  quack  captain. 
"  Mankind  are  gullible,  that's  a  fact,  they'll  swaller  anything  amost, 
if  you  ouly  know  how  to  talk  'em  into  it ;  that's  the  only  secret 
how  to  persuade  'em.     Mankind  lives  on  promises." 

"Well,"  sais  I,  "gullible  means  taking  things  down  like  gulls, 
and  they  are  awful  hungry  birds.  They  go  screamin  about  the  mud 
flat  of  the  ri\  ur  in  the  hasm  of  Minas,  like  mad,  and  swaller  a  whole 
herring  one  after  another  without  winkin' ;  and  now  and  then  a  clam, 
shell  and  all,  as  fowls  do  gravel  to  help  digestion,  but  cover  a  her- 
ring over  with  your  nasty  stuff,  and  see  if  it  wouldn't  scream  loud 
enough  to  wake  the  dead  amost.  You  must  treat  men  as  you  would 
children.  Tell  them  to  shut  their  eyes  and  open  thiiir  mouths  and 
take  what  you  give  them,  as  you  do  when  you  play  with  the  little 
dears,  and  as  long  as  it  is  sweet  and  pleasant  they  will  swaller  any- 
thin'.  Why  the  plague  do  doctors,  who  live  by  the  sellin'  of  medi- 
cine, make  it  so  nasty ;  no  created  critter  can  git  it  down  without 
makin'  faces  that  would  scare  a  horse.  The  balm  of  Gilead  man^ 
Doctor  SolomaB;  knew  this  secret^  his  balm  was  nothin  but  a  dram, 


■¥.. 


.%'■ 


\ 


108 


OLD    BARSAFARILLA    FILLS. 


and  that's  tho  reason  all  the  old  ladies  praised  it.     But  go  on/'  said 
I,  "  I  am  afeard  I  have  interrupted  you ;  you  interest  mo  greatly, 

"  Well,"  sais  ho,  "  it's  very  kind  of  you  to  say  so,  but  it  strikes 
me,"  and  he  scratched  his  head,  "I  haven't  said  much  to  interest 
any  one/' 

"Oh,  yes,"  sais  I,  "that  theory  of  yours,  that  natur'  has  a 
remedy  for  everythin',  is  very  curious  and  original ;  go  on.  Sir." 

Well,  the  goney  was  tickled  with  that  touch  of  tho  soft-sawder 
brush.  Whenever  you  sec  a  feller  that  can  flatter  himself  into  the 
opinion  that  a  hairy  face  is  bccomin';  it  aint  no  difficult  thing  for 
anybody  to  wheedle  him. 

"  Well,"  sais  he,  "  I  have  a  theory,  that  everything  that  partains 
to  the  secret  workings  of  natur'  ought  to  be  invested  with  mystery. 
Women  especially  love  mystery.  Only  tell  them  there  is  a  secret, 
and  see  how  their  curiosity  wakens  up,  and  their  eyes  twinkle.  Dis- 
guise is  the  great  thing  in  medicine.  Now  the  difficulty  is,  so  to 
disguise  this  dropsy  cure,  that  botanists  and  chemists  would  find 
it  out." 

"'Zactly,"  sais  I;  for  as  ho  sot  out  dotarmined  not  to  hear,  I  was 
detarmined  he  shouldn't  talk  long.  "'Zactly,"  sais  Ij  "  t?ow  that's 
what  I  call  sense,  abd  a  knowledge  of  human  natur*.  I  see  you 
'warn't  born  yesterday.     Now  seo  how  you're  disguised." 

"  Me !"  said  he,  looking  all  adrift. 

**  Yes,"  sais  I,  "  you.  Who  in  the  woild  would  take  you  for  what 
you  be  ?  You  are  the  master  of  a  mackerel- vessel,  with  a  consi- 
derable knowledge  of  medicine ;  but  you  look  like  a  French  dragoon 
offieer.  If  old  Buonaparte  was  to  wake  up,  he  would  swear  you  was 
Marshal  Grouchy,  for  you  two  look  as  much  alike  as  two  peas." 

"  Well,"  said  the  feller,  stroking  his  beard  down,  and  looking 
pleased,  "  my  face  is  in  disorder  now,  Mr.  Slick,  but  when  trimmed 
it  aint  without  its  effect  on  the  ladies,  I  do  assure  you." 

"I   shouldn't  wonder  if  it  had   a   peeowerful   effect,"    sais  I; 
"  'specially  if  they  was  in  delicate  health,  and  came  sudden  on  it." 
The  consaited  goney  made  mo  so  mad,  I  had  a  great  mind  to  give 
him  chloriforra,  and  shave  him;  and  I  actilly  would,  too,  if  I  had. 
bad  time,  hang  me  if  I  wouldn't.  "•.. 

"  Yes,  yes,'*  sais  I,  **  everybody  is  in  disguise.     Politicians  pre-  • 
tend  to  be  patriots ;  women  cover  their  designs  and  their  temper 
with  smiles ;  hypocrites  look  pious  to  cheat  you,  or  are  so  frank  and 
manly,  look  you  so  friendly  in  the  face  straight  in  the  eyes,  and 
shake  hands  so  warmly  with  you,  that  I  defy  you  not  to  be  took  in. '" 
Innkeepers  are  so  glad  to  see  you,  *'  makes  you  kind  of  ashamed  of  :: 
your  friend's  coldness ;  but  the  mt  uent  you  can't  pay  the  bill,  they 
kick  you  right  out  of  the  house..     Servants  bow  and  smile,  and 
curtsey  and  scrape  before  you,  and  go  right  down  stairs,  and  say, 
*  There's  no  pleasin'  that  old  devil.     I'll  give  him  notice  he  must 


is    ,.:  r 


I  II  111    iiidtMtiitea 


OLD    SAI18APABILLA    PILLS. 


109 


quit,  if  ho  don't  bchavo  bettor;'  and  then  they  all  larf  ready  to  die, 
at  the  joke.  Then  they  mimic  your  voice,  and  say  to  each  other, 
'  You  really  must  leave  the  house  if  you  make  such  a  noise ;'  and 
then  they  larf  louder  than  ever,  and  take  a  regular  game  of  rompsj 
and  say,  '  Who  cares  V  I  tell  you  the  world  is  all  in  disguise.  *But 
go  on,  Sir,  I  like  to  hear  you  talk,  you  interest  mo  greatly.  Finish 
about  your  theory." 

"Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  "have  maroy.  I  knock  under  —  I  holler, 
I  have  talked  foolish,  I  do  believe ;  but  I  forgot  who  I  was  talkin* 
to,  though  in  a  gincral  way  that  sort  of  laying  down  the  law  does 
answer,  that's  a  fact.  But  tell  me,  please,  how  in  tho  world  did  you 
pick  up  so  many  medical  secrets  ?" 

"  Well,  I  iiave  promised  not  to  blow  you,  and  I  hope  you  von^t 
be  offended  with  me  if  I  do  tell  you  ?" 

"  Sartainly  not,"  said  he. 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  excuse  me,  if  you  please,  but  you  like  to  do  all 
the  talkin'  yourself,  and  don't  want  to  listen  to  others.  Now  I  open 
my  eyes  as  well  as  my  mouth,  hear,  see,  and  learn  what  I  can,  as 
well  as  talk.  You  can't  he  an  autocrat  in  conversation,  any  more 
than  you  can  in  politics.  Other  people  have  rights^  and  they  must 
he  respected"  .   ^  .  ,. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Old  Blowhar^,  who  appeared  uncommonly 
amused  at  the  conversation,  "I  bave  a  theory  of  my  own;  will  you 
allow  me  to  put  in  my  oar  ?" 

"  Sartainly  !"  we  both  said,     s-'r  :■>-  T:'-  =' 

"  Well,  then,  my  theory  is,  that  it  is  high  time  for  us  to  go  on 
board." 

Thinks  I  to  myself,  I  was  rather  hard  on  that  chap.  I  intruded 
on  him,  and  not  he  on  me.  I  was  his  guest,  and  he  wasn't  mine. 
He  was  in  his  own  house,  as  it  were,  and  had  a  right  to  lead  tho 
talk.  So  I  thought  I  owed  him  a  good  turn,  and  as  I  expected  the 
jobation  I  gave  him  would  make  him  ill,  I  said : 

"  Captin  Furlong,  I'll  give  you  my  cure  for  the  jaundice.  You 
will  make  your  fortin  out  of  it ;  and  common  as  the  article  is,  all  the 
doctors  under  heaven  will  never  find  your  secret  out."  And  I  wrote 
it  out  for  him,  tho'  it  was  a  tough  job ;  for  as  he  leaned  over  my 
shoulder,  as  I  was  a-doin'  of  it,  his  nasty,  coarse,  stiff,  horse-hair 
sort  of  beard  tickled  me  so,  I  thought  I  should  have  gone  into 
fits;   but  I  got  through  it,  and  then  shook  hands,  and  bid   him 


% 


■>;      :■:'  ^    >'. 


\ 


110 


THE  HOUSE  TUA.T  HOPE  BUILT. 


li 


i\ 


CHAPTER  XII. 

;#THE  HOUSE  THAT  HOPE  BUILT. 


\ 


Early  the  following  mornm',  every  vessel  in  the  fleet  got  tinclGr 
way  with  what  is  called  a  soldier's  wind ;  that  is,  it  was  fair  for 
those  goin'  both  east  and  west.  Captain  Love  not  only  consented 
to  his  mate  takin'  charge  of  the  '  Black  Hawk'  instead  of  the  poor 
deranged  skipper,  but  pressed  him  to  do  so,  sayin' : 

"  I  guess  I  can  find  where  the  Cape  lies.  Matey,  without  askin' 
the  way  of  any  one.  There  aint  much  above  common  for  you  to  do 
to  hum  just  now;  so  go,  my  son,  and  enjoy  yourself  with  friend 
Slick.  He  aint  perhaps  quite  so  good-natured  as  I  be,  for  I  believe 
I  am  the  best-tempered  man  in  the  world,  when  they  let  me  alone, 
and  don't  rile  me ;  but  he  is  better  informed  than  me,  and  will  spin 
you  yarns  by  the  hour,  about  the  Queen  of  England,  whose  nobles, 
they  tell  me,  eat  off  of  silver  dishes  with  gold  forks ;  and  the  Pope 
of  Rome,  where  it's  the  fashion  to  shake  hands  with  his  big  toe  j 
and  the  King  of  France,  where  it  is  the  custom  to  fire  at  him  once 
a  week,  and  instead  of  hitting  him,  kill  one  of  his  guards.  Great 
shots,  them  Frenchmen !  I  don't  doubt  but  that  they  could  hit  a 
barn-door,  if  it  was  big  enough,  at  ten  yards  distance.  Slick  has 
been  everywhere  amost,  and  as  he  travels  with  his  eyes  open,  has 
seen  everythin'.  I  don't  suppose  his  stories  are  all  just  Gospel,  but 
they  aint  far  off  the  mark  for  all  that;  more  like  a  chalk  sketch  of 
a  coast  made  on  the  deck,  perhaps,  than  a  printed  chart,  not  done  to 
measurement,  but  like  enough  to  steer  by.  And  then_,  when  you  are 
a-shore,  if  you  want  to  see  fun,  set  him  to  rig  a  Blue-nose,  as  he  did 
old  Sarseperilly  Pills  yesterday,  till  he  hollered  and  called  fcr  mercy, 
and  it  will  make  you  split.  Come,  that's  settled  now,  sposen  we 
have  a  glass  of  grog  at  partin'.  Mr.  Slick,  here  is  your  good  health, 
and  the  same  to  you,  Matey,  and  a  pleasant  voyage  to  you  both. 
You  will  return.  Matey,  by  the  supply  vessel,  and  its  captiu  and  you 
will  change  places ;  and,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  "  I  forgot  to  tell  you, 
friend  Cutler  can  give  you  all  the  information  you  want  about  tho 
fisheries.  He  knows  the  history  and  habits  of  the  fish,  their  feedin' 
grounds,  and  the  mode  of  takin'  and  curin'  of  them." 

When  we  got  into  the  boat  to  leave  the  '  Bald  Eagle,'  the  sailors, 
to  testify  their  regard  for  their  old  oflBcer,  gave  thrae  cheers,  a  com- 
pliment that  was  returned  when  we  reached  our  vessel,  with  a  hearty 
good  will.  It  was  a  splendid  sight  to  see  this  flett  of  thirty-six  sail 
of  fishin'-craft  that  now  got  under  way,  all  of  them  beautiful 


:  ■ ,  1 

.  '^r^^^K' 

Iu"'''FP 

■* 

|m!''.|\ 

». 

^ 

THE    HOUSE    THAT    HOPE    BUILT. 


Ill 


models,  neatly  and  uniformly  painted,  well-rigged,  and  their  white 
cotton  canvas  sails  cut,  so  as  to  lay  up  to  the  wind  like  a  board,  and 
the  whole  skimmin'  over  the  water  as  light  as  sea-guiis.  When  we 
consider  this  was  only  an  accidental  meetin'  of  some  scattered  out-  . 
ward  and  homeward  bound  vessels,  and  was  merely  a  specimen  of 
whiit  was  to  be  seen  from  this  to  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence,  I  actilly 
do  think,  without  any  crackin*  or  boastin'  on  the  subject,  that  we 
have  great  reason  to  be  proud  of  our  splendid  mackerel  fleet. 

As  the  '  Bald  Eagle'  left  her  anchorage,  Cutler  said,  with  a  smile :  ■% 

''Do  you  hear,  my  dear  old  friend,  the  most  good-natured  man  ia 
the  world,  how  he  is  stormin'  ?  This  is  one  of  the  exceptions  he 
himself  makes — he  is  riled  now.  Poor  old  Blowhard  !  If  you  are 
not  the  best  tempered,  as  you  so  often  boast,  you  certainly  are  the 
kindest-hearted  u.^n  in  the  world,  and  no  one  knows  it  better  and 
appreciates  it  more  highly  than  I  do." 

In  the  meantime,  instead  of  going  with  either  portion  of  the  fleet, 
we  sailed  past  M'Nutt's  Island  into  the  entrance  of  the  magnilicent 
harbour  of  Shelburn,  the  largest,  the  best,  the  safest,  and  the  most 
beautiful  on  the  whole  American  coast,  from  Labrador  to  Mexico, 
where  we  came  to  anchor.  Takin'  two  hands  in  the  boat,  I  steered 
to  the  point  of  land  that  forms  the  southern  entrance,  and  crossiu* 
the  little  promontory,  proceeded  to  search  for  Mr.  Eldad  Nickerson, 
whom  I  intended  to  hire  as  pilot  and  assistant  to  the  coward  mate  in 
his  land  trade,  and  as  a  hand  in  the  place  of  Mr.  Enoch  Eells,  for  I 
knew  him  to  be  a  trustworthy,  intelligent,  excellent  man.  Near  the 
first  house  on  the  way,  I  met  a  smart,  active-looking  boy  of  about 
thirteen  years  of  age.  .  ..■,-•:■.    <  . 

"  Whose  house  is  that,  boy  V 

"Ouru,  Sir." 

«  Who  lives  there  ?" 

"  Eeeather  Peter  Potter,  Sir."  / 

"Is  he  at  hum?" 

"  Vp<j  "  ■■;>:'    '*■     , 

"  Do  you  know  Mr.  Eldad  Nickerson  ?"  •  M  '        '  f 

"Yes."  .■      •.   "' 

"Is  ho  at  hum?" 

"Yes,  I  just  now  saw  him  cross  the  fields  to  his  house." 

"  Well,  do  you  run  after  hira  as  fast  as  your  legs  can  carry  you, 

and  tell  him  that  Mr.  Slick  is  ut  Squire  Peter  Potter's  a-waitin'  for 

him."  N 

"  Feeather  beant  a  squire,  Sir,"  said  the  boy. 
"  Well,  he  ought  to  be  then.     Tell  him  Mr.  Slick  wants  to  see 

him  down  to  the  squire's." 

"  I  tell  you  Peter  Potter  beant  a  squire.  Sir."  v 

"  And  I  tell  you  he  ought  to-  be  a  squire,  then,  and  I'll  just  go 

in  and  see  about  it." 


■MPipifP^ 


112 


THE    HOUSE    THAT    HOPE    BUILT. 


fl 


i! 
ll 

illlif 


iV 


ill- 


if 


"Well,  I  wish  you  would,  Sir,"  said  the  boy,  "for  some  how 
feeather  thinks  he  aint  kind  of  been  well  used." 

*•  Tell  Mr.  Nickersou,"  said  I,  "  to  come  at  once ;  and  now  run  aa 
if  old  Scratch  kicked  you  on  eend,  and  when  you  come  back  I  will 
give  you  hal&a-dollar."       :    ,:      ,-"^    .'-r'  '}y-^^k 

The  boy  darted  off  like  an  arrow  from  a  bow ;  half-a-dollar  certain, 

and  the  prospect  of  a  seat  in  the  quarter  sessions  for  his  fec'tiihcr 

were  great  temptations ;  the  critter  was  chock  full  of  hope.     Boys 

*   are  like  men,  and  men  are  like  boys,  and  galls  and  women  are  both 

alike,  too;  they  live  on  hope  —  false  hopes  —  hopes  without  any 

airthly  foundation  in  natur'  but  their  own  foolish  consaits.     Hope  ! 

what  is  hope  ?  expectin'  some  unsertin  thing  or  another  to  happen. 

,^      Well,  sposen  it  don't  happen,  why  then  there  is  a  nice  little  crop  of 

disappointment  to  disgest,  that's  all.     What's  the  use  of  hopen  at 

all  then  ?     I  never  could  see  any  use  under  the  sun  in  it.     That 

word  ought  to  bo  struck  out  of  every  dictionary.     I'll  tell  Webster 

so,  when  he  gets  out  a  new  edition  of  hisn.     Love  is  painted  like  a 

little  angel,  with  wings,  and  a  bow  and  arrow,  called  Cupid  —  the 

V  •      name  of  mother's  lap-dog.     Many's  the  one  I've  painted  on  clocks, 

little,  chubby-cheeked,  onmeanen,  fat,  lubberly,  critters.     I  suppose 

it  typifies  that  love  is  a  fool.     Yes,  and  how  he  does  fool  folks,  too ! 

Boys  and  galls  fall  in  love.     The  boy  is  all  attention  and  devotion, 

T  and  the  gall  is  all  smiles,  and  airs,  and  graces,  and  pretty  little 

winnin'  ways,  and  they  bill  and  coo,  and  get  married  because  they 

Jiopc. 

Well,  what  do  they  hope  ?     Oh,  they  hope  they  will  love  all  the 

,  days  of  their  lives,  and  they  hope  their  lives  will  be  ever  so  long 

just  to  love  each  other;  its  such  a  sweet  thing  to  love.     Well,  they 

hope  a  great  deal  more  I  guess.     The  boy  hopes  arter  he's  married 

his  wife  will  smile  as  sweet  as  ever  and  twice  as  often,  and  be  just 

as  neat  and  twice  as  neater,  her  hair  lookin'  like  part  of  the  head, 

'so  tight,  and  bright,  and  glossy,  and  parted  on  the  top  like  a  little 

: ''  -       path  in  the  forest.    A  path  is  a  sweet  little  thing,  for  it  seems  made 

;j^  a  purpose  for  courtin',  it  is  so  lonely  and  retired.     Natur  teaches  its 

^^  use,  he  says,  for  the  breeze  as  it  whispers  kisses  the  leaves,  and  helps 

the  flowering  shrubs  to  bend  down  and  kiss  the  clear  little  stream 

that  waits  in  an  eddy  for  it  afore  it  moves  on. 

Poor  fellow,  he  aint  spoony  at  all.  Is  he  ?  And  he  hopes  that 
her  temper  will  be  as  gentle  and  as  meek  and  as  mild  as  ever ;  in 
fact,  no  temper  at  all — all  amiability — an  angel  in  petticoats.  Well, 
she  hopes  every  minute  he  has  to  spare  he  will  fly  to  her  on  the 
wings  of  love — legs  aint  fast  enough,  and  runnin  might  hurt  his 
lungs,  but^y  to  her — and  never  leave  her,  but  bill  and  coo  for  ever, 
and  will  let  her  will  be  his  law ;  sartainly  wont  want  her  to  wait  on 
him,  but  for  him  to  tend  on  her,  the  devoted  critter  like  a  heavenly 
ministering  white  he-nigger. 


"•""IP 


THE  HOUSE  THAT  HOPE  BUILT. 


113 


Well,  don't  they  hope  they  may  get  all  this  ? 

And  do  they  ?  Jist  ga  into  any  house  you  like,  and  the  last  two 
that  talks  is  these  has  been  lovers.  They  have  said  their  Bay,  and 
are  tired  talking ;  they  have  kissed  their  kiss,  and  an  onion  has  spiled 
it  J  they  ha\  e  strolled  their  stroll,  for  the  dew  is  on  the  grass  all  day 
now.  His  dress  is  ontidy,  and  he  smokes  a  short  black  pipe,  (he 
didn't  even  smoke  a  cigar  before  ho  was  married),  and  the  ashes  get 
on  his  waistcoat ;  but  who  cares  ?  it's  only  his  wife  to  see  it — and  he 
kinder  guesses  he  sees  wrinkles,  where  he  never  saw  'em  afore,  on 
her  stocking  ancles ;  and  her  shoes  are  a  little,  just  a  little,  down  to 
heel ;  and  she  comes  down  to  breakfast,  with  her  hair  and  dress 
lookin'  as  if  it  was  a  little  more  neater,  it  would  be  a  little  more 
better. 

He  sits  up  late  with  old  friends,  and  he  lets  her  go  to  bed  alone ; 
and  she  cries,  the  little  angel !  but  it's  only  because  she  has  a  head- 
ache. The  heart  —  oh !  there's  nothing  wrong  there  —  but  she  is 
lately  troubled  with  shockin'  bad  nervous  headaches,  and  can't  think 
what  in  the  world  is  the  cause.  The  dashing  young  gentleman  has 
got  awful  stingy  too,  lately.  He  sais  housekeepin'  costs  too  much, 
rips  out  an  ugly  word  every  now  and  then,  she  never  heerd  afore ; 
bdt  she  hopes  —  what  docs  the  poor  dupe  hope  ?  Why,  she  hopes 
he  aint  swearin ;  but  it  sounds  amazin'  like  it— that's  a  fact.  What 
is  that  ugly  word  "  dam,"  that  he  uses  so  often  lately  ?  and  she 
looks  it  out  in  the  dictionary,  and  she  finds  "  dam"  means  the 
"mother  of  a  colt."  Well,  she  hopes  to  be  a  mother  herself,  some 
day,  poor  critter !  So  her  hope  has  ended  in  her  findin'  a  mare's 
nest  at  last. 

More  things  than  that  puzzle  her  poor  little  head.  What  does  he 
see  to  be  for  cverlastinly  a  praisin'  that  ugly  virago  of  a  woman, 
Mrs.  Glass  —  callin'  her  such  an  excellent  housekeeper  and  capital 
manager  J  and  when  asked  if  she  understands  music,  sayin'  she 
knows  somethin' much  better  than  that.  '      •    *•  ' 

"What,  dear r  •     .    ;-  ;.  y^:',^- 

"Ohl  nevermind." 

"But  I  insist/'  (insist  is  the  first  strong  word:  take  care,  you 
little  dear,  or  it  will  soon  be  one  of  tlfe  weakest.  Mind  your  stops, 
dear ;  it  sends  a  husband  off  like  a  hair-trigger  gun) ;  "  but  I 
insist." 

"What,  insist!    Well,  come,  I  like  that  amazingly." 

"I  mean  I  should  like  to  know,  dear;"  (Ah!  that's  right,  my 
sweet  friend,  for  I  do  love  the  little  critters ;  for  it's  bad  trainin'  and 
bad  handlin'  arterwards,  by  bad  masters,  that  so  often  spiles  them. 
That's  right;  lower  your  tone,  dear,*  you'll  have  occasion  to  raise  it 
high  enough,  some  of  these  days,  perhaps) ;  "  I  should  like  to  know, 
dear,  what  she  knows  better  than  that  ?  You  used  to  say  you  was 
so  fond  of  music,  and  stand  by  the  piano,  and  turn  over  the  leaves  j 
10* 


114 


THE    HOUSE    THAT    HOPE    BUILT.  7^ ^ 


,,\ 


^.31 


and  bo  so  angry  if  anybody  talked  when  I  sang,  and  said  I  could 
have  made  a  fortiti  on  the  stage.  Tell  me  what  she  knows  better, 
dear  ?  .  Is  it  painting?  You  used  to  be  so  fond  and  so  proud  of  my 
painting.     Tell  me,  dear,  what  does  she  know  better  V 

That  little  touchin'  and  nateral  appeal  about  the  music  and 
paintin'  saved  her  that  time.  She  got  put  off  with  a  kiss,  which 
she  didn't  hardly  hope  for,  and  that  made  it  doubly  sweet.  What 
people  Jiope  /or,  they  think  at  last  they  have  a  right  to,  and  when 
they  are  disappointed,  they  actilly  think  they  are  ill-used ;  but  un- 
expected luck  makes  the  heart  dance,  and  it  saved  her  from  hearin' 
what  she  did  arterwards,  for  the  unfeelin'  rascal  was  agoin  to  tell  her 
that  what  Mrs.  Glass  knew,  that  was  better,  was  how  to  make  a 
puddin*.  Well,  the  child  hope  painted  was  to  be  a  blessin',  rot  a 
little  angel,  that  aint  good  enough ;  but  a  cherubim  or  seraphim  at 
least.  Well,  it  did  resemble  them  in  one  respect,  for  "  they  con- 
tinually do  cry."  What  a  torment  it  was  !  Teethin',  hoopin'-cough, 
measles,  scarlatina,  the  hives,  the  snuffles,  the  croup,  the  influenza, 
and  the  Lord  knows  what,  all  6ame  to  pay  their  respects  to  it.  Just 
as  fast  as  one  plague  of  Egypt  went,  another  came. 

Well,  if  the  nursery  told  'em  how  foolish  it  was  to  hope,  the 
world  told  'em  in* rougher  language  the  same  thing  at  a  time  when 
the  temper  was  too  sour  to  bear  it.  The  pretty  boys,  what  are  they  ? 
Pretty  birds !  Enough  to  break  their  parents'  hearts,  if  they  was 
as  hard  as  flints.  And  their  galls,  their  sweet  galls,  that  had  nur- 
sery-governesses, and  fashionable  boarden-schools,  and  music  masters, 
and  French  mastei*s,  and  ^^etalian  masters,  and  German  masters 
(for  German  is  worth  both  French  and  ^^etalian  put  together;  it 
will  take  you  from  Antwerp  to  Russia,  and  from  the  Mediterranean 
to  the  Baltic),  and  every  other  master,  and  mistress,  and  professor, 
and  lecturer  worth  havin' ;  and  have  been  brought  out  into  company 
according  to  rule  —  (I  never  liked  that  regular-built  bringin'  out  of 
galls ;  its  too  business-like,  too  much  like  showin'  a  filly's  paces  at 
a  fair,  like  hangin'  a  piece  of  goods  out  of  the  window — if  you  fancy 
the  article,  and  will  give  the  price,  I  guess  it's  likely  we'll  come  to 
tarms,  for  she  is  on  hand,  and  to  be  disposed  of) — well,  arter  all  this 
hope  of  dear  Minna,  and  Brenda,  and  Ulla,  and  Nina :  what  did 
hope  do,  the  villain  ?  Why  he  looked  into  the  drawin'-room,  where 
they  were  all  ready  to  receive  company,  with  mamma  (that  dear 
little  mamma,  that  it  seems  as  if  she  was  only  married  the  other 
day,  so  slight,  so  sweet,  so  fairy-like,  and  so  handsome.  I  don't 
wonder  "  Hubby,"  as  she  called  her  husband,  fell  in  love  with  hor ; 
but  now  a  great,  fat,  coarse,  blowsy,  cross  woman,  that  I  wouldn't 
swear  didn't  paint,  and,  don't  mention  it  —  yes!  drink  her  Cologne 
water  too).  Well,  hope  peeped  in  at  the  winder,  and  looked  at 
those  accomplished  young  ladies,  with  beautiful  foreign  and  romantic 
names,  and  screamed  like  a  loon  at  the  sight  of  a  gun.     Ho  vowed 


>diWHtMaii«MMaMn»< 


THfi    HOUSE    THAT    HOPE    BUILT. 


115 

old  Satan's 


ttey  nearly  scared  him  to  death ;  for  they  were  as  ugly  as 
eldest  daughter,  her  they  call  Deadly  Nightshade.    * 

Jlope  is  a  slippery  gentleman,  and  has  cheated  more  fools  than 
ever  love  did,  for  many  people  pretend  to  love  that  don't.  Many  a 
feller,  while  he  was  a  kissen  of  a  gall,  and  had  one  arm  round  her 
waist,  slipped  the  other  into  her  pockets  to  feel  what  was  there,  and 
many  a  woman  has  inquired  (no  that  aint  fair,  I  swow,  I  won't  say 
that,  I  ought  to  be  kicked  if  I  did) ;  but  there  is  many  a  gall  whose 
friends  inquire,  not  into  a  man's  character,  but  into  his  balance  at 
his  banker's,  and  if  that  aint  good,  into  his  family  interest,  for 
"friends  are  better  than  money,"  and  fish  that  won't  take  a  worm, 
will  jump  clean  stark  naked  out  of  the  water  at  red  hackle. 

But  love  is  neither  here  nor  there ;  the  rael  neat  article,  like  rael 
best  Varginy  backey,  is  a  scarce  thing ;  it's  either  very  coarse,  or  a 
counterfeit,  something  you  wouldn't  touch  with  a  pair  of  tongs,  or 
something  that  is  all  varnish,  venear,  and  glue.  The  moment  it  is 
heated  it  warps,  and  then  falls  to  pieces.  Love  is  a  pickpocket  — 
hope  is  a  forger.  Love  robs  a  gall  and  desarts  her,  and  the  sooner 
she  is  rid  of  him  the  better,  for  she  is  young,  and  the  world  is  left 
to  her,  at  any  rate.  Hope  coaxes  her  to  hoard  up  for  the  future, 
and  she  listens  to  the  villain,  and  places  her  happiness  in  years  to 
come ;  and  when  that  long  future  arrives  (a  pretty  short  story  arter 
all,  for  it  so  soon  comes),  and  she  goes  to  draw  on  this  accumulated 
fund,  the  devil  a  cent  is  there }  hope  has  drawd  it  all  out,  and  gone 
to  California.  ■     c  ■" , 

Love  and  hope  are  both  rascals.  I  don't  pity  any  folks  that  is 
cheated  by  hope,  it  sarves  them  right,  for  all  natur'  is  agin  hope. 
"  Good  and  evil  seldom  come  where  tliey  are  expected."  We  hante 
no  right  to  rely  on  anybody  but  on  Providence  and  ourselves. 
Middle  men,  or  agents  in  a  general  way,  are  evil  spirits,  but  hope  is 
the  devil. 

I  do  pity  a  feminine  tho',  that  is  cheated  by  love,  for  by  listenin' 
to  the  insinivations  of  the  accomplished  rascal,  she  don't  know  that 
the  voice  of  natur'  is  in  his  favour,  tho'  he  does.  But  I  don't  pity 
a  he  crittur  at  all.  His  strength,  vanity,  and  want  of  principle,  will 
carry  him  through  any  thin'.  The  spur  icon't  hurt  lohere  the  hide  is 
thick.  I  don't  go  agin  love,  it's  only  Cupid's  love,  boy  love,  calf 
love,  and  Cupid  ought  to  be  sarved  like  a  calf.  With  us  we  veal  a 
calf  at  four  weeks,  in  England  they  keep  him  three  months ;  but 
Cupid,  like  the  calves,  ought  to  have  his  throat  cut  at  one  age  or  the 
other. 

Man's  love  and  woman's  love  is  a  sensible  thing,  and  a  natural 
thing,  and  I  approbate  it,  provided  it  is  founded  on — bit  I"  aint  a 
goin'  to  preach.  Day  and  night  are  given  to  work,  to  glorify,  to  jol- 
lify, and  sleep.  What  right  have  we  to  take  this  day's  happiness, 
bottle  it  up,  and  pnt  it  away  for  ten  years,  and  say,  "  We  will  then 


».  J. 


■-#» 


\ 


,A\. 


<  IP 


11 


116 


i     'I! 


THE    HOUSE    THAT    HOPE    BUILT, 


'>.♦■ 


.■»    -^ 


have  a  splcndiferaus  spree,  uncork  it,  and  get  riproarious  with  delight  ? 
Take  your  daily  bread,  and  be  thankful;  but  don't  pray  to  the  Lord 
to  lay  up  for  you  the  loaves  for  years  to  come  to  make  you  rich. 
Many  a  man  has  died  ahout  the  time  his  yreat  baki?ig  of  bread 
came  otif  of  Ms  oven.      .       -■  .'    '  '  •     ,     ..  5- ■ 

Love,  like  the  small-pox,  comes  in  the  natcral  way,  and  you  can't 
help  it;  but  hope  is  different;  all  experience  is  agin  it;  and  ydt; 
like  sin,  every  one  indulges  in  it,  privately  or  publicly.  Look  at 
that  boy,  now ;  he  hopes  I  am  goin'  to  make  his  father  a  squire  or 
justice  of  the  peace.  I  haven't  the  power,  and  don't  know  as  I 
would  if  I  could.  But  tarnation  !  I  never  said  I  would.  All  I  did 
«ay  was,  he  ought  to  be.  Well,  so  he  ought,  if  he  was  worth  a  far- 
thin'.  On  that  little  compliment  he  has  framed,  raised,  boarded  in 
and  shingled  up  a  considerable  buildin'  of  hope.  And  don't  every- 
body do  the  same  ?  Why  to  be  sure  they  do.  "  When  my  Uncle 
Sam  dies,"  sais  my  nephew,  Sam  Munroc,  "  I  shall  get  all  his  money." 

He  is  quite  sure  of  it;  his  hope  is  so  strong,  and  so  i,  his 
mother's  and  father's  too.  They  all  hope  as  hard  as  they  can.  Well, 
I  intend  to  marry  soon,  and  I  guess  I  don't  hope,  for  /  aint  such  a 
fool ;  but  I  gue^  I  may  have  a  little  Sam  Slick  of  my  own,  and 
then  where  is  all  their  hopes  ?  Gone  to  the  four  winds  and  all  their 
pints,  includin'  Oilynndcv  the  black  cook's  favourite  one — west  and 
by  east,  half  south.  Then  new  hopes  spring  up;  Uncle  Sam  will 
get  me  a  situation  under  government,  for  he  knows  everybody  amost. 
And  Uncle  Sam  guesses  he  may ;  but  as  it  don't  depend  on  him 
altogether,  and  it  is  as  like  as  not  he  might  fail,  all  he  sais  is  he'll 
try;  but  in  the  meantime,  don't  depend  on  it;  work  as  if  you  never 
thought  of  it.  You  can't  live  on  hope,  and  hope  deferred  makes 
the  heart  sick. 

Well,  the  critter  don't  look  pleased  at  that*answer — that  sensible 
answer — that  answer  that  is  accordin'  to  the  natur  of  things  and  the 
working  of  Providence,  and  he  is  huify,  slams  his  hat  on,  sticks  his 
lips  out  and  bangs  the  door  arter  him  as  he  struts  oif,  and  his  father 
is  sulky,  and  his  mother  looks  down  in  the  mouth.  They  hoped 
better  things  of  Uncle  Sam.  He  ain't  got  no  nateval  affection;  he 
has  travelled  about  the  world  so  much,  he  don't  care  for  no  one  now. 
Single  men  get  selfish ;  but  they  still  hoj)c,  because  they  intend  to 
teaze  nie  into  it.  So  they  at  it  again.  They  hope  to  wheedle  me 
too,  if  teazin'  won't  answer. 

"  Oh^  Shta  !"  says  sister  Sail,  and  railly  there  is  no  restin'  of  her 
when  she  gets  at  you,  she  has  such  winnin'  ways  about  her,  and 
smilcs.JW)  s^p^t,  and  looks  to  my  mind  handsomer  than  when  she  was 
a  gall,  ^vcll,  she  watches  her  chance — fur  hope  keeps  her  wide 
awake— =-and  when  she  sees  me  dressed  up  for  a  party,  in  my  best 
J^don  and  Paris  dress,  she  takes  hold  of  my  whisker,  and  gives  it 
a  litllc  better  curl  and  set  with  her  finger.     "  Sam,"  sais  she,  "  how 


\ 


*mm 


THE    HOUSE    THAT    HOPE    BUILT. 


117 


well  you  do  look !  I  wouldn't  go  out  to  this  party,  only  I  feel  so 
proud  of  you,  and  I  do  like  to  see  folks  look  up  to  you  so.  Your 
last  visit  to  Europe  did  a  great  deal  for  you ;  it  improved  you  so 
much."       "i  ■''''>-  -  i,; ,. /v,  ;>_ ' r 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?     sais  I.  ',;,'■■ 

"  Think  !"  sais  she,  a  tossin'  up  of  her  pretty  little  head,  and  a  sha- 
kin'  of  her  beautiful  ringlets,  and  a  kissin'  of  me.  "  I  don't  think 
about  it  at  all,  I  know  it,  and  it's  generally  allowed  to  be  so,  it  has 
made  you  quite  a  man  of  the  world,  it  has  rubbed  off  all  rusticity, 
or  what  Cooper  calls  provincial  look." 

"  Oh  !  ho !"  sais  I  to  myself,  "  I  see  how  the  cat  jumps,  there  ia 
a  gold  chain,  or  a  bracelet,  or  a  cameo,  or  somethin'  or  another 
wanted.  Well  I'll  play  her  off  a  little  while  and  she  shall  have  it, 
the  dear  little  critter,  and  welcome.  Oh !  Lord,  a  man  of  the  world  I 
"  Sally,"  sais  I,  "  Sally,"  pretending  to  look  all  taken  aback,  "  I  am 
sorry  to  hear  that." 

"Why,  dear?"  sais  she.    -  •  •   '•'  "-^  .'  '"*  V 

"  Because,  Sally,  a  man  of  the  world  has  no  heart,  and  I  begin 
to  think  mine  aint  so  big  or  soft  as  it  used  to  be." 

"  How  can  you  say  so,  Sam  ?"  sais  she,  and  then  comes  another 
kiss. 

"  Better  so,  Sally  dear,"  sais  I.  "  If  I  was  as  soft  as  I  onct  was, 
when  I  was  always  in  love  with  every  gall  I  romped  with,  (and  I 
jiever  see  one  that  I  didn't  make  right  after),  perhaps,  I'd  go  strait 
off,  marry  in  haste  and  repent  at  leisure." 

Well,  that  word  marry  always  set  her  a  swollerin'  her  breath,  as 
folks  do  to  keep  down  the  Jiickups.  Sally  railly  does  love  me,  and 
no  mistake ;  but  somehow  or  somehow  else,  it  strikes  me  it  would 
take  her  a  good  while  to  like  my  wife  (though  she  will  have  to  try 
some  day),  for  that  would  knock  her  hopes  all  to  squash. 

"  Marry  !"  said  she ;  "  why  I'm  sure  there  aint  any  one  half  good 
enough  for  you  here,  Sam,  so  you  needn't  be  afeard  of  fallin'  in  love 
to-night;  but  I  wasn't  thinkin'  of  the  galls,"  said  she,  a-colorin'  up 
out  of  consciousness.     "  I  was  thinkin'  of  the  men." 

Some  how  or  another,  natur  don't  seem  to  approbate  anything 
that  aint  the  clear  grit.  The  moment  a  lady  goes  to  conceal  an  arti- 
fice, if,  instead  of  hiding  it  with  her  petticoats,  she  covers  it  with 
blushes,  "  Guilty  !"  sais  you  at  once.  "  There  is  the  marks  of  blood 
in  your  face." 

"  So  you  warn't  thinkin'  of  the  galls,  eh,  Sally  ?  '  HoT^ike  a 
woman  that  was  !"  ^ 

"Sam,"  sais  she,  a-colorin'  up  again  most  beautiful,  "do  behave 
yourself.  I  thought  you  was  improved,  but  now  I  don't  see  you  are 
a  bit  altered.  But,  as  I  was  sayin',  the  men  all  look  up  so  to  you. 
They  respect  you  so  much,  and  are  kind  of  proud  of  you — they'd  do 
anything  for  you.     Now,  Amos  Kendle  is  to  be  there  to-night,  one 


ii 


Hi 


11 


¥M'\ 


?r-.* 


118 


THB    HOUSE    THAT    HOPE    BUILT. 


of  tho  Secretaries  of  State.  Couldn't  you  speak  to  hira  about  Sam  ? 
He'd  provide  for  him  in  a  minute.  It's  amost  a  grand  chance ;  a 
word  from  you  would  do  the  business  at  ouct — ho  won't  refuse  i,ou." 

Well,  it  aint  easy  to  say  no  to  a  woman,  especially  if  that  woman  is 
a  sister,  and  you  love  that  sister  as  I  do  Sally.  But  sometimes  they 
must  listen  to  reason  (though  hope  don't  know  such  a  tarm  as  that), 
and  hear  sense  (though  hope  says  that's  heathen  Greek)  so,  I  have 
to  let  her  down  easy. 

"  Sally  dear,"  sais  I,  a-takin'  of  her  hand,  "  Amos  is  a  democrat, 
and  I  am  a  Whig,  and  they  mix  about  as  easy  as  ile  and  water  j  and 
the  democrats  are  at  the  top  of  the  ladder  now ;  and  in  this  great 
nation  each  party  take^  all  the  patronage  for  its  own  side.  It's  a 
thing  just  onpossible,  dear.  Wait  until  the  Whigs  come  in,  and 
then  I'll  see  what  I  can  do.  But,  Sally,  I  don't  approbate  offices 
for  young  men.  Let  them  aim  t>  ir  own  grub,  and  not  eat  the 
bread  of  the  State.  It  aint  half  so  siveet,  nor  half  so  much  to  be 
depended  on.  Poor  Sally  !"  thinks  I,  "  hope  will  be  the  death  of 
you  yet,"  for  she  said,  in  a  faint  \  oice  : 

"  Well,  Sam,  you  know  best.  I  trust  all  to  you ;  my  hope  is  in 
you,"  and  she  ■sot  down,  and  looked  awful  pale,  held  a  smellin'-bottle 
to  her  nose,  and  I  thought  she  would  have  fainted. 

Well,  to  make  a  long  storv  short,  one  fine  day  in  flies  Sally  to  my 
room,  all  life,  animation  and  joy.  .     *  '     '  .     '  '•  '/T^ 

"  Oh  !  Sam,"  sais  she,  "  I  have  great  news  for  you  ?"    '  ~-  '^'*''.  ,^"i' 

"Has  the  blood-mare  got  a  colt?"  sais  I.  ,'^'    '  ,  ••  '''^ 

"Ho!"  sais  she;  "how  stupid  you  are  !"     *  '  '  "'        "^ 

"  Has  the  Berkshire  pig  arrived  from  England  ?"  '      .   .  • ,   « 

*     I  knew  in  course  what  was  comin',  but  I  just  did  it  to  tease  her. 

"No,  Sam,"  said  she,  a-throwin'  her  arms  round  my  neck, 
a-laughin',  kissin',  and  cryin',  half-distracted  all  at  the  same  time, 
"  no,  Sam,  the  Whigs  have  carried  their  man  for  President.  Now's 
the  time  for  Sam  !  you'll  get  an^pffice  for  him  ;  won't  you,  dear?" 

"  I'll  try,  dear.  Pack  up  my  things,  and  I'll  start  for  Washington 
to-night ;  but,  Sally,  dear^  some  how  I  don't  think  I  can  do  much 
for  Sam ;  he  aint  known  in  politics,  and  its  party  men,  active  men, 
and  influential  men  that  gets  places.  I  might  obtain  a  foreign 
appointment  for  myself,  if  I  wanted  it." 

"Oh!  of  course  you  could  if  you  wanted  it,"  she  replied,  "for 
you'd  try  then." 

TWjip  is  no  keepin'  off  a  woman ;  if  coaxin'  won't  do,  they  give 
you  {fWy  touch  on  the  raw;  but  I  takes  that  poke,  and  goes  on. 

"  Because  they  aint  always  confined  to  party ;  but  as  for  a  boy 
like  Sam,  I  don't  know,  but  I'll  try." 

Well,  what,  sais  President,  'i  Collector  of  Customs  at  New  Port, 
Rhode  Island?  Why  Mr.  Slick,  if s  worth  three  thousand  a-year." 
'    "Exactly;  that's  the  reason  why  I  asked  for  it." 


;; 


:  .■Sj^'-s?^  ■• 


I'ii;  - 

1      :!•■       ? 


■'^'- '  'i^^yiiwp^^J^BfliBfck" 


THE     HOUSE    THAT    HOPE    BTJILT. 


119 


)) 


"  It's  onpossible,  Sir.' 

"Well,  Capo  Cod?    Let  me  see  two  thousand  five  hundred  dol- 

lars." 

"  Too  large,  Sir,  the  party  will  never  consent  to  it  for  an  unknown 
boy ;  and  even  you,  Mr.  Slick,  though  one  of  us,  don't  mix  in  poli- 
tics; but  stop,  ril  see  what  I  can  do,"  and  he  turns  over  a  large  book 
of  places,  names,  and  salaries ;  at  last  he  sais :  "  Here's  a  vacancy 
that  nobody  has  asked  for.  I'll  make  him  United  States'  Consul  for 
Turks  Island,  in  the  West  Indies ;  it's  worth  three  thousand  dollars 
a-year,  if  he  don't  object  to  the  yaller-fever,"  he  said,  laughin',  "  the 
ophthalmia,  the  absence  of  whites,  and  the  presence  of  the  many 
blacks,  and  can  do  without  fresh  provisions ;  it's  a  good  office,  for  I 
defy  him  to  spend  his  income,  and  he  may  add  to  it  by  trade,  I  am 
sorry  I  have  nothin'  better  to  offer  him ;  but  if  you,  Mr.  Slick,  would 
like  a  diplomatic  station,  I  shall  be  happy  to  nominate  you  to  the 
Senate  for  other  considerations  weigh  there  as  well  as  party.  Wash- 
ington Irving  goes  to  Spain,  which  he  has  illustrated.  ,  You  are 
favourably  known  as  attacM  to  our  embassy  to  St.  Jimes' ;  if  you 
would  like  any  part  of  the  Mediterranean,  or  the  north  of  Europe, 

"Thank  you.  Sir,"  sais  I,  "I  prefer  private  to  public  life,  and 
will  let  you  know  the  young  gentleman's  determination  as  soon  as  I 
return."  '    *    -^     -   'T;<>-' 

When  I  came  home,  Sally  didn't  cry :  oh !  of  course  not,  women  don't 
know  how,  when  she  saw  all  her  hopes  broken  to  pieces,  like  a  flower- 
pot that  falls  off  a  stand,  leavin'  nothin'  but  dirt,  broken  crockery, 
and  squashed  roses  on  the  carpet.  And  Sam  didn't  stalk  about  the 
room,  and  hold  up  his  head  straight  like  a  crane  that's  half  choked 
swallowin'  a  great  bull  frog,  and  talk  nonsense,  and  threaten  to  lick 
the  President  if  ever  he  caught  him  to  Slickville.  Oh  no !  boys 
never  do  that ;  and  they  didn't  coax  and  persuade  me  to  take  a  foreign 
mission,  on  purpose  to  have  Sam  as  attacM.  Oh  no  !  of  course  not ; 
that  would  have  looked  selfish,  and  askin'  too  much  of  Uncle.  I 
wonder  if  there  is  such  a  thing  as  asking  too  much  of  an  uncle. 
Thinks  I,  when  the  Lord  don't  send  children,  the  devil  sends 
nephews  and  nieces.  Well,  hope,  like  an  alder-bush  near  a  ditch  in 
the  dike,  as  soon  as  it  is  cut  down  springs  right  up  again,  and  puts 
forth  five  or  six  stems  instead  of  one.  There  is  a  new  hope  for  Sam, 
who  railly  is  a  handsome  feller,  and  if  he  was  a  little  taller  would  be 
most  as  handsome  as  his  Uncle. 

"Well,  what  is  it,  Sally?"  * 

"Why,  I  think  he  will  marry  Miss  Crowningshield,  the  great 
heiress.  Her  father  made  a  million  dollars  in  ile,  and  left  it  all  to 
her.  Oh  !  I  hope  to  goodness  he  will  take  my  advice.  She  is  very 
fond  of  him,  and  meets  him  more  than  half  way.  Wouldn't  that 
be  grand,  Sam  ?"  :^/ 


*f' 


'« 


ill 


if 

hi. 


K*Si 


120 


XUn    IIOUHK    WITUOUT    UOPl. 


,)lftl 


Woll,  T  didn't  Hiiy  ft  word. 

"Hum,  why  don't  you  ^lpolllcl'     Wliy  8ain,  wlmt.  nils  you?" 

"  Httlly  dtniv,"  niiis  I,  "  tuko  caro.  Tins  I'ortin  commonood  iu  ile, 
mid  will  JTud  ill  Mnblior,  us  hiu'o  us  tho  world,  hoo  if  it  don't." 

Woll,  it  did  ;  oithor  lio  didn't  go  tho  right  way  to  work",  or  hUo 
jiltod  him;  but  thoy  didn't  hitoh  horses  togothcr.  Hull  took  t)  her 
uod,  ftnd  nearly  criod  hor  oyos  out,  and  ISnni  took  to  u  likoly  young 
hoifor,  thut  imd  just  njonoy  enough  to  pay  thoir  pawago,  and  splioou 
and  sot  oil'  to  (!aliftn*nia.  Ho  will  do  hottor  now  ho  is  away  from 
bis  niotluM*,  if  ho  works  like  a  niggor  day  and  night,  aint  afraid  of 
hot  suns  and  eold  rivers,  has  good  luck  in  diggiu',  and  don't  get 
robbed,  burnt  out,  or  murdered. 

1'  llopo  will  bo  tho  death  of  poor  Sally  yet.  She  goes  it  as  strong 
hs  over,  now,  on  Joslma  Hopewell  JNIunroo,  tho  second  boy;  and  it 
they  would  only  let  hopin'  alono,  I  make  no  doubt  but  ho'd  do. 
"i'lo,  no  I"  as  I  said  to  my  nephew,  when  ho  went  to  tho  ruoifio, 
**hopo  ought  to  bo  .struek  out  of  tho  dictionary.  Do  your  duti/y 
SaWy  ami  (ruKf  to  Pioviifvnrv ;  have  no  hopv  and  no  fear ;  rajard 
the  preiitnt  nmf  not  the  future^  except  that  /uturo  heyund  tho  i/rave, 
an(f /or  that  thf  word  iit/ai'th.'* 

Stpiire,  what  eS'et  ilo  you  think  that  had  on  him?  and  this  I  will 
say,  though  I  nay  it  that  shouldn't  say  it,  it'.s  good  advice.  Why 
the  hopeful  youth  just  winked  to  his  wife,  as  much  as  to  say,  How 
wivso  ho  is,  aint  he?  "  l*]xaetly,  unele,"  sais  ho;  "wo  shall  have  as 
happy  ft  life  of  it  as  the  jolly  old  pair  in  tho  song  had,  who 

••  *  Nor  hoped,  nor  foarod,  noi*  lauglicd,  nor  oriod|  '  •*■ 

.•,  Ami  80  thoy  livcil,  and  so  thoy  tliod.*  '    ^ 

Good  bye,  unelo;"  and  after  thoy  got  out  into  tho  entry,  I  could 
hear  them  laugh  like  anything  at  it.  Poor  boy  I  ho  is  tho  wrack  of 
a  house  that  hope  built. 


'  \ 


CnAPTER  XIII. 

■  '  «    '  -  -    ■> 

THi:   HOUSE  WITHOUT   HOPE. 

WlIlLK  tho  boy  was  goin'  ft)r  Eldad  Niekorson,  I  walked  into  tho 
house  of  Mr.  Peter  l\>tter,  the  door  of  which  stood  iuvitinly  or 
carelessly  open,  and  went  to  the  fire,  wliere  Peter  sat  smokin'  a  pipo. 
Ho  was  about  as  cross-grained,  morose,  ongainly,  forbiddi:\'  a  lookin' 
man  as  ever  I  sot  eyes  on.  He  was  tilted  back  on  his  chair,  which 
ho  Dalanced  with  the  toes  of  his  boots.  Ho  wore  his  hat,  to  savo 
the  trouble  of  taking  it  on  or  off;  and  a  month's  board,  to  savo  tho 
troublo  of  shaviu*.     He  neither  got  up,  nor  looked  up,  nor  spokoj 


:^i^W*  t 


THR  nOUHR  WITHOUT  HOPE. 


121 


\oo.d  iti  ile, 
n't." 

tIc,  or  hUo 
ook  t)  her 
:oly  yomiff 
lul  upliood 
iiwtiy  froui 
d  nfi'uid  of 
don't  get 

an  Htronff 
y;  and  it 
;  ho'd  do. 
10  ruoiflo, 
lour  dati/y 
•;  rctjard 
the  yravey 

this  T  will 

uo.     Why 

8iiy,  How 

U  htwe  as 


,  I  oould 
Iwnick  of 


linto  tho 
[tinly  or 

a  pipo. 

lookin' 
|,  which 
|to  savo 

ivo  tho 
Ispoko; 


but  Hocmod  llHtoninp;  to  a  groon  stick  of  wood,  that  was  what  is 
culled  Hinging  or  hi^Hing,  uh  tlio  heat  of  tho  fii'o  drovo  out  thu  nap. 
Poverty,  despair,  and  doggod  bad  temper,  was  Htampod  on  his  faco 
in  big  print.  I  guess  lio  had  got  out  of  bed  tho  wrong  way  that 
uiornm'. 

Kvorvtliing  depends  on  how  a  num  gets  up.  It's  a  groat  soorct, 
that.  If  it  is  done  wrong  leg  foremost,  or  wrong  cend  fust,  you  aro 
wrong  all  day,  cross  as  old  scratch ;  and  tho  wisest  thing  is  to  give 
you  a  wide  bcrtli,  lest  you  should  fly  olT  tho  handle.  And  if  the 
right  log,  or  tho  right  side,  or  right  cend,  as  tho  caso  may  bo,  cornea 
up  as  it  ought,  why  then  you'll  do  pretty  well  that  day,  like  Old 
lUowhard,  if  tlioy  don't  rile  you.  But  t'other  way,  is  like  tho  sun 
risin',  and  goin'  into  a  cloud  right  oft'j  it's  a  suro  sign  of  a  storm,  or 
a  jtiicy  day. 

l*oter  had  got  up  wrong,  or  never  turned  in  right,  or  didn't  know 
the  (lodge  of  cottin'  out  of  bed  properly.  Tho  apartment  in  which 
ho  sat  was  both  a  kitchen,  and  common  sitting-room.  It  was  clean, 
[mt  scantily  and  wretchedly  furnished.  Evcrythin'  betokened  groat 
poverty.  Much  of  tho  glass  of  tho  windows  was  broken,  (jnd  its 
place  supplied  by  shingles,  and  what  was  left  was  patched  with  tho 
fragments  of  those  that  had  been  shattered.  Tho  dresser  contained 
but  few  articles  of  crockery,  and  those  of  tho  commonest  kind,  of 
ililVorojit  patterns,  and  of  indispensable  use.  A  common  deal  table, 
a  bench,  and  throe  or  four  rickctty  chairs,  with  two  round  pieces  of 
birch,  apparently  siuvcd  from  a  log  of  fire-wood,  for  seats,  that  stood 
on  each  side  of  tho  chimney,  was  all  that  tho  room  contained. 

Onliko  other  houses  of  tho  sumo  kind,  bclongin'  to  people  of  his 
class,  which  aro  generally  comfortable,  and  bear  some  marks  of  thrift 
and  good  cheer,  this  exhibited  nothin'  to  feed  or  work  upon.  No 
hams  hung  temptii.  from  tho  rafters.  No  hanks  of  yarn  kivered 
tho  \valls,  and  no  spinnin'-whecl  showed  a  partnership  with  sheep. 
High  up,  within  tho  largo  open  fire-place,  and  on  cither  side  of  tho 
jams,  were  two  hard-wood  rods,  that  severally  supported  about  a 
dozen  fflispercaux,  or  alowives,  that  were  utidergoin'  tho  process  of 
Huiokin  ;  while  in  one  corner  of  tho  room  stood  a  diminutive  scoop- 
net,  by  the  aid  of  which  tho  eldest  boy,  apparently,  had  provided 
this  scanty  supply  of  food  for  tho  family.  A  heavy,  old-fashioned 
nmsket  was  slung  between  tho  windows,  and  was  probably  tho 
travollin*  companion  of  its  owner,  for  tho  special  benefit  of  consta- 
bles and  wild-fowl,  both  of  which  are  naturally  shy  in  a  place  so 
much  IVoquented  by  sailors, 

It  was  a  scone  not  easily  forgotten,  especially  in  a  country  like 
Nova  Scotia,  whoro  common  industry  supplies  in  abundance  all  tho 
ordinary  wants  of  a  family.  Procecdin'  to  the  fire-place,  I  addressed 
the  immoveable  and  silent  owner. 

"  Mornin*,"  sais  I,  "  friend.     By  your  leave  I'll  light  a  cigar  by 
U  .       * 


il  ' 


m 


1 


7. 


il'lrl 


122 


TUG    II  0  U  B  E     WITHOUT     HOPS. 


r  I 


\ 


stoud  near  tbo 
\ 


vouv  fii'o."     And  suitin'  the  action  to  the  word,  I  took  up  a  coal, 
Slowed  it,  and  lit  ono.  a 

"  That's  right,"  said  he,  "  help  yourself  fust,  and  then  ask  leave." 

"  Peter,  aint  you  uahamcd '("  said  his  wife,  who 
dresser,  apparently  desirous  of  escaping  observation. 

<»No,  I  aint."  .     ;  ■  ^r.  *«^.    .,t 

"  Well,  then,  you  ought  to  be." 

"  I'riend,"  sais  I  (for  if  I  blow  a  coal,  I  never  blow  up  conteU' 
tion),  "  friend,"  sais  I,  (and  I  took  no  notice  of  what  ho  said,  for  I 
was  detarniined  to  make  him  talk  in  spite  of  himself.  I  never  see 
the  man  yet,  where  I  had  the  chance,  that  I  couldn't  draw  him  out, 
as  easy  as  nail-rod  iron),  "friend,"  sais  I,  "will  you  try  a  cigar?  it's 
a  first  chop  article." 

"No;  I  don't  smoke  them,"  he  said;  "I  can't  afford  them." 

"  Well,  here  is  a  fig  of  best  Varginny  tobacky.  You  don't  often 
see  the  like  in  these  diggins ;  take  that." 

He  held  his  hand  out  without  speakin'  a  word,  half-ashaiacd  to 
refuse,  and  half-unwillin'  to  accept  it,  and  I  dropt  it  in. 

"And  now,"  sais  I,  "friend,  I  must  be  a  movin'.  Good-bye.  I 
am  obliged  to  you  for  the  loan  of  that  are  coal,  for  I  left  my  fire- 
works ibehind."  And  I  turned  and  went  to  the  door,  to  intercept 
the  boy,  so  that  he  mightn't  give  my  name ;  for  I  am  well  known  on 
the  Shelburne  coast,  having  set  up  a  clock  in  every  house  in  the 
county  almost.     We  met  at  the  threshold.  ^        .,. 

"  Mr.  Nickerson,"  .said  he,  "  will  bo  here  torectly,  Sir." 

"All  right,  my  lad.  Now,  here's  the  half-dollar  you  aimed. 
You  see  how  easy  money  is  aimed  by  them  that's  willin'  to  work. 
You're  a  smart  lad,  and  would  make  a  smart  man,  if  you  had  a 
chance.  Now,  cross  over  that  neck ;  under  the  bank  is  a  boat.  Tell 
them  that's  in  it  to  hold  on  there  for  me;  and  do  you  wait  till  I  come, 
and  I  will  give  you  a  quarter-dollar  more." 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  said  the  boy,  all  animation,  and  was  going  to  staflrt  off 
again,  when  I  said : 

"  And  boy !" 

"Yes,"Sir." 

"Do  you  know  Jabe  Lunn?" 

"Yes,  Sir;  he  lives  close  by." 

"  Well,  he  used  to  be  the  laziest  rascal  in  all  Shelburae  county. 
If  you  will  ax  him  to  come  and  swing  on  the  gate  with  me  for  half 
an  hour,  and  suck  sugar-barley,  I  will  give  you  another  quarter- 
dollar,  for  I  hante  got  a  soul  to  talk  to,  and  ray  tongue  is  getting 
rusty  on  the  hinge.     Now  off  like  a  shot." 

I  followed  him  an  instant  with  my  eye,  and  then  said,  loud  enough 
to  myself  to  be  heard  inside  :  "  A  plaguy  smart  boy  that — well-man- 
nered, too — and  the  gracious  knows  where  he  got  such  nice  manners 
from  I"     Then  I  took  a  step  or  two  forward,  and  then  suddenly  re- 


>!<:■ 


\\\-v 


TIIK     HOUSE     WITHOUT    HOPE. 


i2d 


turned,  nnd  looked  in.  "  Oood-byo,  old  man,"  sais  I,  a  raisin'  of 
my  voice,  "  I  sec  you  nro  dumb ;  I  hope  you  aint  dcef  j"  and  I  saun- 
tcitid  towards  the  roud,  for  I  knew  I  should  bo  called  back.  I  had 
sowed  the  seeds  of  curiosity  —  peThaps  jealousy  —  about  Nickorson. 
Wij^h  words  succeeded  my  d(^)arture  ;  and  the  wife  soon  followed  mo, 
and  besought  mo  to  wait  for  Mr.  Niekerson.  She  said  her  husband 
was  subject  to  these  gloomy  fits,  and  this  one  was  passin'  off.  Poor 
thing !  like  all  wives,  she  made  every  excuse  but  tho  right  ono,  and 
that  was  that  he  was  a  nasty  cross-grained  critter,  that  wanted  a  good 
quiltin'  to  warm  his  blood  —  for  warm  blood  makes  a  warm  heart, 
that's  a  fact.  Well,  back  I  went.  I  gained  my  pint.  I  wanted  to 
examine  tho  critter,  and  probe  tho  sore  points,  and  sec  what  on  airth 
ailed  him. 

<'Come,  Sir,"  sais  she,  "sit  down  please."  And  she  took  her 
apron,  and  wiped  tho  dust  off  the  chair — a  common  country  practice 
— and  took  another  herself. 

"Come  to  preach,  I  suppose  r"  said  old  Peter,  who  had  found  his 
tongue  at  last. 

"  No,  my  friend,  I  am  not  ordained ;  and  them  that  aint,  have  got 
somcthin'  to  larn  themselves." 

"Come  to  Icctur',  perhaps?"  ' 

"  No,"  sais  I,  "  I  have  not  come  to  lectur'  you." 

"  I  don't  mean  that,"  he  said,  for  curiosity,  when  once  started, 
aint  easy  kept  in ;  "I  mean  call  a  mcetin',  read  a  lectur*,  and  pass 
round  the  hat." 

"No,"  sais  I,  "I  don't  put  my  money  in  my  hat,  but  in  my 
pocket.  Come  here,"  sais  I,  "my  beautiful  little  curly-headed  boy, 
and  I'll  show  you  the  pocket  is  better  than  the  hat;"  and  I  took  out 
a  silver  threepenny  bit,  and  a  large  copper  half-penny. 

"  Go  to  the  gentleman,"  said  the  mother.  '  '•' "  " 

"Now,"  sais  I,  "which  will  you  have?" 

Well,  child-like,  ho  took  the  biggest. 

"My  friend,"  said  I,  "  that  big  fellow  promises  the  most,  but  can 
do  the  least.  That  small  white  chap  is  just  worth  three  of  him,  tho* 
he  don't  look  like  it.     Don't  trust  professions  when  you  grow  up.'* 

"Oh  I  I  see,"  said  Peter,  relapsin'  into  his  sulkiness,  "I  see  now, 
you  are  a  canvasser?" 

"  No,  I  aint,"  said  I,  "  I  hate,  and  despise,  and  detest  politicians 
of  all  sorts,  sizes,  shapes,  f»nd  names," 

"  The  devil  you  do  !'*  said  he,     "  So  do  I,"        , '    -^^ 

"Ah  ha!"  sais  I,  "that's  one  o'  the 'places  the  shoe  pinches." 

"  But  maybe,"  and  he  still  looked  dissatisfied,  "  maybe  you  are  a 
lawyer  chap  ?" 

"Maybe  I  aint,"  sais  I;  "for  I  don't  calculate  to  live  on  the  fol- 
lies, the  vices,  the  crimes,  and  misfortins  of  others,  but  to  aim  my 


v^-> 


m 


124 


THE  HOUSE  WITHOUT  HOPE, 


.  bread  like  an  honest  man.     Take  care  of  that  bit  of  silver,  my  little 
boy/'  sais  I.     "Don't  give  it  to  a  lawyer  when  you  grow  up." 

"What  mout  your  name  be?"  said  Potter,  turning  half  round, 
and  takiu'  a  look  at  me. 

"Well,"  sftid  I,  "it  mout  be  Mr.  S^imuel;"  I  thought  !'<!  keep 
back  Slick,  for  I  knew  he  wouldn't  talk  if  he  discovered  who  I  was. 

"  Samuel !"  said  he.  "  I  knew  a  man  oncet  of  that  name.  He 
was  a  Jew.  Ho  used  to  come  from  Meremachi,  and  traded  here  in 
jeweFry." 

"I've  heard  of  him,"  said  I;  "Samuel  the  Jew.  But  don't  you 
know  that  a  man  may  have  an  everlastin'  long  beard  like  you,  or  be 
called  Samuel  like  me,  and  yet  neither  of  us  be  Jews.  I  never  had 
but  four  jewels  in  my  life,  £  ud  them  my  father  gave  me.  They 
have  made  my  fortin,"  • 

"  '  Master  Samuel,'  said  he,  (I  came  very  near  lettin'  the  cat  out 
of  the  bag  by  sayin'  Sam),  *  I  have  four  jewels  for  you.' 

"Well,  it  made  my  eyes  twinkle.  ■  ~    ' 

"  'Now,'  thinks  I,  'won't  I  make  the  galls  stare.  What  might 
they  be  like.  Sir?'  said  I. 

"'Why,'  sais  he,  'first,  rise  early;  secondlt/,  work  hard;  thirdly , 
.  be  frugal ;  fourthly,  pay  as  you  go.'     Heavens  and  airth  !  how  dis- 
appointed I  was. 

^  "Aint  that  a  nice  story,  my  little  boy  ?"  for  he  had  got  interested, 
and  had  come  close  to  me.  . 

"Yes,  Sir,  it  is." 

"  Well,  it  is  almost  as  pretty  as  you  be.  But  never  forget  it, 
they  will  make  you  a  man  as  they  have  me.  '  Do  you  call  them 
jewels,  father?'  said  I.  .  •,• 

" '  Yes,  I  do,'  said  he ;  '  and  woi  ;;h  more,  too,  than  all  the  gewgaws 
of  stones,  glass  beads  called  brilliants,  and  gold  settin's  and  fixin's 
in  the  yrorld." 

"  No,  I  am  no  Jew." 

"  Well,  arter  all  this  palaver,"  said  old  Stick-in-the-mud,  "  what 
are  you  arter  ?" 

"  I  am  arter  another  coal  of  fire,"  said  I,  "to  light  a  fresh  cigar 
with.  For  goodness  gracious  sake,  don't  grudge  me  that.  Give  me 
k  light;  and  if  you  don't,  you  may  go  to  the  devil,  and  I  will  go  to 
Texas." 

"  Peter !  Peter !"  said  his  wife,  risin'  up,  "  are  you  a  goin'  for  to 
drive  the  gentleman  out  of  the  house  agin  ?  Oh  dear !  oh  dear  I 
My  goodness,  it  aint  often  we  see  the  likes  of  him  here,  who  merely 
asks  to  light  his  pipe,  sits  down  and  talks  like  one  of  us,  and  has  no 
pride." 

Oh  ho  !  sais  I  to  myself,  there  is  another  place  the  shoe  pinches, 
ril  find  the  sore  spots  by-and-byu. 

"  Hold  your  jaw,"  says  he,  "  will  you  ?     You  don't  know  what 

■^4     .  .  ■•  '"'-X-- 


le  cat  out 


THE  HOUSE  WITHOUT  HOPE.         1^6^' 

you  are  a  talkia*  about.     Who  the  devil  are  you  V  said  old  Peter,  . 
addressing  ine.     "  I  don't  know,  and  you  don't  seem  willing  to  tell 
me  J  but  I  like  your  talk,  and  you  are  welcome  to  wait  here  for 
Eldad.     You  warn't  born  yesterday,  I  know." 

"  I  guess  not,''  said  I ;  "  I  was  born  thirty-five  years  ago.  Well," 
sais  I,  "  there  is  another  thing  I  want." 

"I  thought  so,"  said  he;  "I  knew  you  were  arter  somethin'. 
People  don't  force  their  talk  or  their  company  on  others  for  nothin'  f 
and  he  sot  down  and  looked  as  ugly  and  as  cross  as  ever.  "  What 
is  it  you  are  arter  ?"  ':■/'  *  r^. 

"Why,"  sais  I,  "you  have  given  me  a  little  fire,  couldn't  you 
give  me  a  drop  of  water.  The  Shclburne  water  is  the  best  in  the 
world.  I  have  got  a  little  mite  of  brandy  in  this  flask,"  taking  it 
out  of  my  po'?ket,  "  and  I  should  like  to  take  some  with  you  before 
we  part,  unless  you  grudge  the  water  as  much  as  you  did  the  fire ;  if 
you  do,  you  may  keep  it  to  put  it  out  afore  you  go  to  bed.  Come, 
old  fellow,"  said  I,  tappin'  him  on  the  shoulder,  "ddnH  be  grumpy, 
you  will  never  see  me  agin  arter  to-day  j  and  if  you  hain't  no  objec- 
tion, give  me  the  bucket,  and  I'll  go  and  draw  a  little  fresh  water 
from  the  well,  and  we'll  liquor." 

"  Draw  water  ?"  said  he,  risin'  up  slowly  in  astonishment.  "  How 
the  plague  do  you  know  where  the  well  is  ?" 

"  How  the  plague  do  I  know  that  you  owe  Lock  and  Key  of 
Ragged  Island,  and  Snow  of  Shelburne?  How  do  I  know  that 
Muir  builds  for  Fairbanks  and  Allison  "  That  you  aint  a  squire, 
though  you  ought  to  be?  That  Jabe  Lunn  is  lazy,  and  Eldad 
Nickerson  is  a  good  pilot  ?  Come,  give  me  the  bucket,  the  well  is 
under  the  willow-tree  therr?  to  the  right,  near  the  road." 

"  Mother,"  said  he,  "  did  you  ever  hear  the  like  of  that  ?" 

"  Never,"  said  she. 

" Nor  I  either,"  said  he ;  " but  needs  must  when  the  devil  drives^ 
so  here  goes,"  and  off  he  went  for  the  water.  ^'•'    .  >t.  .  •  ,^    . 

"  Mister,"  said  his  wife,  when  he  was  gone,  "  I  see  you  have  been 
about  here  afore,  and  know  who  we  are,  tho'  we  don't  know  who 
you  be." 

"  That's  a  fiict,"  sais  I.  -  ■    '    >-  -  -^^ 

"  My  poor  '-:  Bband  is  dissatisfied  and  discouraged;  talk  to  him,  do 
Sir,  if  you  pio  .,  lOi'  y^.u  talk  different  from  anybody  else.  I  saw 
you  w^  ^  detarmined  to  make  him  speak  to  you,  and  nobody,  I  do 
believe,  could  have  done  it  but  yourself,  because  you  don't  want 
nothin'  of  him,  and  now  he  will  tell  you  anythin'  you  like.  Do  en- 
courage him  if  you  can,  pray  do,  Sir ;  he  is  down-hearted  and  down 
in  the  world,  he  says  ho  is  past  hope.  Ii's  dreadful  to  hear  him 
talk  that  way !" 

"  Come,  bear  a  hand,"  sais  I,  "  my  old  boy,  for  I  want  a  drop  of 
somethin'  to  drink  (not  that  I  cared  about  it,  but  I  guessed  he  did) 

11*  '  0^ 


W^ 


I: 


Wr-' 


i  I 


|i 


126 


THE    HOUSE    WITHOUT    HOPJ:.. 


Try  that,  it  will  warm  the  cockles  of  your  heart,  and  then  let  us 
have  a  dish  of  chat,  for  my  time  is  short,  and  I  must  be  a  movin' 
soon.     How  do  you  like  that,  ch ?     It  aint  bad,  is  it?'' ,.      „  ,   . 

"  Well,  it  aint,"  said  ho,  "  that's  a  fact." 

"Now,"  sais  I,  "my  friend  sit  down  and  talk.  I  have  told  you 
what  I  aint,  now  tell  me  what  you  aint." 

"Well,"  sais  he,  "I  aint  a  Papist,  I  can't  abide  them,  with  their 
masses,  holy  water,  and  confessions." 

"  They  have  as  good  right  to  be  Papists,  as  you  have  to  be  a  Pro- 
testant," sais  I ;  "  and  the  world  is  wide  and  large  enough  for  both 
of  you.  Let  them  alone,  and  they  will  let  you  be,  if  they  can. 
Perhaps  you  are  a  churchman  ?" 

"  No,  I  don't  hold  to  them  either,  their  ministers  are  too  proud  j 
they  talk  down  to  you  like  as  if  you  only  onderstood  a  little  common 
English,  but  don't  lake  yoa  up  to  them,  do  you  comprehend?" 

"  Exactly,"  sais  I,  "  I  take ;  but  help  yourself  to  a  Utile  of  that 
are  old  particular  Cogniac,  for  talking  is  dry  work.  Exactly,  but 
you  don't  comprehend.  You  couldn't  onderstand  plain  English  if 
you  was  to  die  for  it.  If  you  was  to  go  to  Yorkshire,  or  Somerset- 
shire, or  Cornwall,  or  any  of  them  counties  where  plain  English  is 
spoken,  you  couldn't  onderstand  one  word  of  it,  any  more  nor  if  it 
was  French.  Plain  English  aint  plain  at  all;  it's  like  common  sense, 
the  most  oncommon  thing  in  the  world.  And  if  they  was  to  take 
you  up  to  them,  it  would  be  half  Latin  and  Greek,  and  you  couldn't 
comprehend  that;  and  as  for  pride,  aint  there  a  little  mite  or  morsel 
of  that  in  your  not  acknowledgin'  a  superior?" 

"That  are  a  fact,"  said  his  wife,  "I  am  a  churchw'>man  myself; 
and  I  often  tell  him  it  aint  the  parson  that's  proud,  but  him." 

"  Mother,"  said  he,  "  will  you  hold  your  tongue  ?  because  if  you 
won't,  you  had  better  leave  the  room.  You  don't  know  what  you 
are  a-talking  about." 

"Come,"  sais  I,  "go  on;  for  there  i?  nothin',  next  to  work,  I 
love  so  much  as  talk.  By  loorh  you  gt*  money,  hy  talk  you  get 
knowledge." 

"  Well,  the  methodist  preachers  are  as  proud  as  the  church  par- 
sons, and  better  paid,"  said  he. 

"  So  much  the  better  for  you,"  said  I,  "for  they  want  the  less  from 
you." 

"  Want,  is  it  ?"  said  he.  "  Why  they  all  want  something  or  an- 
other. There  was  a  Latter-Day  Saint  came  here  last  Sabbath  month 
from  the  Cape  to  preach.  They  say  he  is  a  great  wrackcr,  helps  the 
poor  people's  things  ashore,  and  lets  the  owners  swim  for  it.  Well, 
his  horse  was  as  fat  as  a  seal,  and  shined  in  the  sun  so  as  nearly  to 
put  your  eyes  out. 

" '  Friend  Potter,'  said  he,  "  they  all  call  you  friend  when  the  hat 
is  to  go  round,  'a  marciful  man  is  marciful  to  his  beast.'     Thinks  I 


^^ 


.  iof.- 


THE  HOUSE  WITHOUT  HOPE. 


127 


a  movm 


on  sense. 


to  myself  I  wonder  if  you  are  marciful  to  your  wife,  for  she  is  as 
thin  as  a  crow,  and  if  all  your  wracks  are  no  better  ^han  ber,  the 
trade  wouldn't  be  worth  follerin'."    i  :'-  .^\.  ^".  "  ^    - 

"  Peter,  Peter,"  said  his  wife,  "  how  loosely  you  talk.'' 
"  I  wish  your  tongue  warn't  so  loose,'*  said  he,  "what  business  is  it 
of  yours  how  I  talk  ?    'Mr.  Potter,*  said  the  preacher,  '  have  you  are 
a  lock  of  hay  to  spare  V ' 

" '  No,*  sais  I,  '  I  haint.  Hay  is  six  pounds  a  ton  here,  and  mine 
is  fed  out  long  ago.  My  cattle  is  most  starved,  and  is  now  to  the 
Hftin'.* 

" '  Well,'  sais  he,  '  have  you  are  a  dog-fish  you  don't  want  ?' 
"  Yes,'  sais  I,  *  plenty.     Some  I  try  out  for  ile,  and  some  I  use 
for  manure.     What  do  you  want  of  'em  ?* 

"  *  I'll  tell,*  said  he.  '  That  are  horse  that  is  so  fat  and  shiny  has 
eat  only  a  few  hundredweight  of  hay  since  last  fall ;  two  dog-fish  a 
day  did  all  the  rest  of  the  feedin*,  and  look  at  him,  aint  he  a 
pictur*?"*  -   v/.   :,>i> 

"Is  that  a  fact,  Mr.  Potter?"  sais  1. 
"  A  nateral  truth,'*  said  he. 

"  Well,  my  friend,  that  is  the  good  of  talk,  as  I  told  you,  you  larn 
something  by  it.  I  never  heard  that  afore,  and  to  poor  fishermen 
it's  worth  more  than  all  the  boards  of  agriculture  ever  did  for  them. 
By.and-bye  I'll  tell  you  somethiu'  you  don't  know,  for  swapping 
fat 's  is  better  than  swapping  horses  any  time." 

"  Yes,**  said  Peter,  looking  wise,  "  I  go  to  hear  all  religionists,  but 
hitch  on  to  none.**  '  • 

^^  That's  natural,'^  sais  I,  "/or  a  man  that  knows  less  than  any  or 
more  than  all  of  them.  But  I  didn't  mean  to  ax  you  what  sect  you 
belonged  to.  Like  you,  I  don't  belong  to  any  sect;  but  like  your 
wife,  I  belong  to  the  Church ;  however,  I  never  talk  of  these  things. 
What  I  should  like  to  know  is — what  you  are?" 

"  Oh,  now  I  understand  you,"  said  he ;  "  oh  !  I  am  neither  con- 
aarvative  nor  liberal.  I  have  no  hope  in  either  of  them.  In  fact  1 
am  desperate,  and  I  have  no  hope.  I  don't  put  my  hope  in  princes, 
for  I  never  saw  one  j  nor  on  any  son  of  man,  for  all  men  are  liars ; 
nor  on  any  son  of  a  gun  of  a  governor,  for  though  they  don't  lie, 
they  don't  speak  the  truth.  All  they  say  is  I'll  see,  which  means 
I'll  see  you  out  of  the  house,  or  I'll  inquire,  which  means  I'll  in- 
quire for  an  excuse.     I  hope  I  may  be  hanged — '* 

"  Oh !  Peter  Potter,  how  you  talk,**  interrupted  his  wife. 
"Mother,  will  you  hold  your  tongue  now,  I  tell  you;"  said  her 
spouse. 

"  Your  wife  is  right,"  sais  I,  "  don't  hope  to  be  hanged,  or  you 
will  be  disappointed,  say  wish.**  '• 

Well,  call  it  what  you  like.     May  I  be  hanged  if  ever  I  hope 


u 


J I 

<^ — 
1^ 


agam 


\ 


128 


THE  HOUSE  WITHOUT  HOPE. 


it 


;i  [ 


111 


JRt 


"  Why  what  on  airtli's  the  matter  ?"      ■  v .   v       ...>'^i 

"  Matter/'  said  he,  '^  everything  is  the  matter.  Things  is  so  high 
you  can't  live  here  now/' 

"  So  much  the  better  for  a  poor  man  all  over  America,"  sais  I, 
"  for  if  you  raise  less,  the  price  rises  in  proportion ;  all  you^vo  got 
to  do  is  to  work  harder,  and  you'll  grow  rich,"  ■  vJEv  "•?!». 

"  The  fish,"  he  continued,  "  ain't  so  plenty  as  they  used  to  ho ; 
the  rot's  in  thepotaters;  and  the  weavel  in  the  wheat;  and  the  devil 
in  everything." 

"  Why  man  alive,"  sais  I,  "  how  easy  it  is  to  grumble ;  if  it  was 
only  as  hard  as  work,  all  the  world  would  be  well  to  do  in  a  gineral 
way  I  reckon.     As  for  wheat,  you  never  raised  any,  so  you  can't 
complain  of  the  weavel,  and  as  to  potatoes,  fifty  bushels  was  about 
your  biggest  crop,  for  you  like  superfine  Yankee  flour  better.     And 
^    as  to  luck  in  the  mackerel  fishery,  do  you  calculate  to  be  so  lucky 
''   as  for  them  to  come  to  you,  or  are  you  too  lazy  to  go  to  them  ?   There 
.  aint  a  single  vessel  gone   from  this  coast  yet,  folks  are  so  tarnel 
sleepy  j  and  I  saw  with  my  own  eyes  thirty-six  sail  of  Yankee  fish- 
ermen, this  blessed  day,  one-half  returnin'  deep  loaded,  and  the 
other  goin'  on  the  second  trip.     Some  folks  are  too  lazy  to  live." 

"  That  are  a  nateral  fact,"  said  his  wife  again,  who,  after  all, 
seemed  determined  to  have  her  own  way  a  little,  as  well  as  her  hus- 
band. 

"Woman,"  said  he,  imploringly,  finding  the  current  against  him, 
"  now  do  hold  your  tongue,  will  you  ?" 

"No,  I  won't  hold  my  tongue,"  she  replied  with  spirit;  "I  have 
as  good  a  right  to  talk  as  you  have.  Oh,  wife  !  oh,  husband !"  said 
she,  "  the  gentleman  talks  sense,  and  you  know  it." 

To  preserve  the  peace,  I  said,  "  I  wonder  what  keeps  Eldad  Nick- 
erson  so  long?"  and  then  I  took  out  my  watch,  and  pretended  to 
look  puzzled.  "If  he  don't  come  to  me  soon,"  sais  I,  "I  must  go 
to  him,  that's  a  fajt.  But  what  on  airth  had  either  Consarvatives 
or  Liberals  to  do  with  either  the  weavel,  the  rot,  or  the  run  of  fish  ?" 

"  Well,  not  exactly  all  mixed  up  that  way,"  said  he ;  "  but  added 
up,  they  are  too  much  to  stand.  There  is  no  hope  for  a  poor  man, 
but  to  lie  down  and  die." 

"It  would  be  better  for  their  widders,"  said  I,  "if  one-half  of 
'em  did." 

"So  say  T,"  said  his  spouse,  who  seemed  to  think  there  might  be 
some  hope  then. 

"  Well,  but  what  have  politicians  done  V 
'   "Done!"  said  he;  "  why,  done  nothin',  or  done  things  brown. 
Didn't  the  Consarvatives  appoint  that  consaitcd  ninoumpoop  and  jack- 
ass, Mr.  Ryder  Kitcum,  to  lay  out  the  road-money  right  in  front  of 
my  door,  j'car  after  year?     Warn't  that  enough  to  raise  the  dander 
>  of  a  Quaker  ?    And  then,  arter  I  turned  tail,  and  voted  for  the 


;^. 


^i^¥.-i^-:2j>  -•  . 


..£^> 


THE  HOUSE  WITHOUT  HOPE. 


129 


Radicals,  and  fit  and  got  licked  awful,  they  actilly  wouldn't  appoint 
mo  hog-reave/' 

"I  shouldn't  account  that  office  no  great  honor,"  said  I,  "nor 
profit  nother." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  with  a  sigh  of  regret  at  this  review  of  the  extent 
of  his  misery,  "  the  honor,  perhaps,  was  no  great  loss ;  but  the  profit 
was  considerable.  Most  of  the  male  folks  here  go  a  fishing :  well, 
in  course,  while  they  are  away  in  the  fall,  their  pigs  will  get  out 
into  the  highway;  and  then  a  man  that  does  his  duty,  which  I 
always  strive  my  best  to  do,  nabs  them  in  a  minute,  advertises  thera 
for  sale  right  ofi",  and  as  there  is  no  one  to  bid,  buys  them  up  for 
half  nothin'.     They  actilly  fed  my  family  all  winter." 

"  Well,  I  never,"  said  Mrs.  Potter,  "  in  all  my  born  days !  Why, 
Peter,  you  have  told  that  fib  so  often,  you  actilly  believe  it  now 
yourself." 

"  Well,  well,"  sais  I  to  myself,  "  this  chap  is  a  bit  of  a  scounderal 
at  bottom,  after  all ;  or  else  he  is  so  ignorant,  he  don't  know  right 
from  wrong.  Mr.  Potter,"  said  I,  "  that  may  be  accordin'  to  Pro- 
vince law,  but,  depend  upon  it,  it's  agin  the  moral  law.  I  don't 
wonder  them  hogs  was  hard  to  disgest,  and  made  you  feel  all  the  time 
as  if  you  had  nothin'  to  do,  but  lie  down  and  sleep  till  you  died.  It 
was  your  pork,  and  not  your  care,  that  was  too  heavy.  Come,  cheer 
up,  man." 

After  a  pause,  he  said,  "  You  have  the  eye  of  a  lawyer,  and  the 
tongue  of  a  minister ;  but,  after  all,  what  is  the  use  of  talking  ?  I 
am  in  a  regular,  tormented  frizzle  of  a  fix.  I  am  tied  hand  and  foot, 
and  I  can't  help  myself,  nohow  I  can  work  it.  But,  it's  my  own 
fault;  I  can't  blame  nobody  but  myself.  What's  done,  is  done;  but 
sometimes,  when  I  sit  down  and  think  over  what  is  past,  and  what  a 
fool  I  have  been,  I  nearly  go  distracted;"  and  he  struck  his  fore- 
head with  his  clenched  fist,  and  looked  the  very  pictur  of  despair ; 
and  in  the  bitterness  of  his  heart,  said  he  wished  he  was  dead. 
"  You  can't  swim  long  agin  the  current,  stranger,"  he  continued, 
"  without  cuttin'  your  throat  as  a  pig  does ;  and  if  that  don't  happen, 
you  soon  get  tired  out,  and  the  waters  carry  you  down,  and  you  are 
foundered  for  ever." 

"Try  an  eddy,"  said  I;  "you  ought  to  know  enough  of  the 
stream  of  life  to  find  one  of  them ;  and  then  you  would  work  up 
river  as  if  it  was  flood-tide.  At  the  end  of  the  eddy  is  still  water, 
where  you  can  rest  for  another  struggle." 

"Yes,"  said  he,  bitterly;  "and  at  the  end  of  life,  there's  the 
grave,  where  the  struggle  is  over.  It  is  too  late  now :  I  have  no 
hope." 

"  Mr.  Potter,"  said  I,  "  poverty  is  full  of  privations,  vexatious, 
and  mortifications,  no  doubt,  and  is  hard  to  bear.  The  heart  of  man 
is  naturally  proud,  and  poverty  humbles  it  to  the  dust ;  but  poverty 


kibii^Uii..sk 


\ 


130 


THE    HOUSE    WITHOUT    HOPE 


\ 


\n 


e 


■1 


can  be  endured  —  honest  poverty ;  and  so  can  misfortin,  provided 
memory  don't  charge  it  to  our  own  folly,  as  it  does  in  your  case." 
ii'K^Oh,  Sir!"  said  he,  "when  I  look  back  sometimes,  I  go  well 
nigli  mad." 

*' What  has  made  you  mad,  ought  to  make  you  wise,  my  friend," 
I  replied.  "  A  good  pilot  has  a  good  memory :  he  knows  every  cur- 
rent, sunk  rock,  shoal,  breaker  and  sand-bar;  havin'  as  like  as  not, 
been  in  a  scrape  onct  or  twice  on  all  of  them.  Memory/  is  nothin* 
but  experience.  The  memory  of  the  wrong  way  heeps  us  in  the  right 
one,  and  the  memory  of  the  right  road  reminds  us  of  pleasant  jour- 
neys. To  mourn  to-day  over  the  wrech  of  yesterday  only  increases 
the  loss,  and  diminishes  the  value  of  lohat  little  is  left  to  us.  If  you 
are  in  a  fix,  back  water,  throw  the  lead,  look  out  for  a  channel,  and 
pull  into  some  cove  or  another." 

"Nothin'  but  Providence  can  help  me!"  he  said,  shaking  his 
head ;  "  and  I  have  no  hope  of  that,  for  I  don't  desarve  its  inter- 
ference." 

"I  guess  not,"  said  I,  "for  Providence  requires  three  things  of 
us  afore  it  will  help  us — ^a  stout  heart,  a  strong  arm,  and  a  stifif  upper 
lip.     Can  you  fish  ?" 

"I  guess  I  can  !  I  won't  turn  my  back  on  no  man  in  these  parts, 
either  for  the  mackerel  or  cod,  the  shore  or  deep-sea  fishing." 

"  Why  the  plague  don't  you  go  to  work,  then,  like  a  man  ?" 

"Because  I  can't  get  the  supplies.  If  I  go  to  Birchtown,  they 
grab  all  the  catch  for  the  outfit,  and  an  old  balance  j  and  if  I  go  to 
Shelburn  I  hante  got  no  credit.  It's  no  use  talkin'.  ^Yhen  you  are 
down,  poverty,  like  snoic-shoes,  heeps  your  feet  fast,  and  prevents 
your  rising :  a  man  can't  hope  agin  hope." 

"  Why  not  engage  as  a  hand  on  board  another  man's  craft,  then  ?" 

"  What !  go  as  a  hand,  when  I  have  always  gone  as  skipper  ? 
No,  no  !  stranger,  that  cat  won't  jump  !" 

"  Lord  John  Kussell  has  done  it,"  sais  I,  "  and  a  bigger  man  than 
him  afore  his  day,  and  that's  John  Adams.  So  my  friend,"  sais  I, 
"let's  drop  the  subject,  for  I  don't  like  talkin'  nonsense.  It  aint 
your  misfortens,  nor  the  memory  of  the  past,  nor  your  poverty,  that 
ails  you,  but  your  tarnal  pride.  I  don't  pity  you  one  bit ;  but  1  do 
your  wife  and  children.  Your  panes  of  glass  in  your  winders  are 
all  shingles,  as  the  Patlanders  say,  and  the  room  is  so  dark  I  can't 
hardly  see  Mrs.  Potter ;  but  your  two  boys  I  have  seen,  and  smart 
•  le  chaps  they  be  too,  it's  a  pity  you  should  bring  'em  up  to  be 
.  lamed  of  their  father.  Be  a  man  ! — above  all,  be  an  honest  man ! 
lu      poor  man  that  won't  work  aint  honest,  that's  a  fact." 

He  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  at  that  poke :  if  the  hide  is 
thick  on  the  ribs,  it's  thin  on  the  flanks,  and  there  is  nothing  like 
trying  for  tender  spots. 

Work"  said  I,  followiu'  up  that  jibe;  "aim  your  own  pork, 


(( 


/THE    HOUSE     WITHOUT    HOPE. 


131 


and  see  how  sweet  it  will  he.  Work  and  see  how  well  you  will  he. 
^Yorh  and  see  hoio  cheerful  you  roill  he.  Work  and  see  how  inde- 
pcndent  you  will  he.  Work  and  see  hoto  happy  your  family  will 
be.  Wor/c  and  see  how  rcligioua  you  loill  he,  for  hefore  you  know 
where  you  are  instead  of  repinivH  at  Providence,  you  will  find  your- 
self offering  up  thanks  for  all  the  numerous  hlessings  you  enjoy. 
Our  vessel  is  just  below,  on  a  coastin'  voyage  down  east.  Como 
along  with  me,  and  you  shall  have  five  pounds  cash  a  month,  and  be 
found.  And  when  you  return,  put  your  pride  in  one  pocket,  and 
your  wages  in  the  other,  and  see  which  will  weigh  heaviest.  Come, 
hope  for  the  best." 

For  a  few  minutes  he  remained  silent,  when  he  suddenly  sprung 
up,  seized  my  hand,  and  said : 
"Done J  it's  a  bargain."  —      rirv- 

"  Thank  God  for  that,"  said  Mrs.  Potter,  and  burst  into  tears. 
"  Now,  Peter,"  sais  I,  "  we  sail  to-night  if  the  wind's  fair,  so  look 
up  your  traps  j  but  first  of  all  shave,  and  make  yourself  look  like  a 
Christian.     Come,  stir  your  stumps,  and  hope  for  the  hest." 

"I  do,"  said  he;  "it's  the  first  glimpse  of  hope  that  has  entered 
this  house  for  many  a  long  day.     I'll  be  ready  in  no  time." 

Arter  all,  I  had  to  use  that  word  hope )  and  I  believe  it  must 
actilly  be  kept  a  little  longer  in  the  dictionary,  in  spite  of  all  pre- 
judice for  such  poor  devils  as  Peter  Potter.  It  is  a  dark  room  that 
has  no  ray  of  light  in  it.  Hope  is  a  slender  reed  for  a  stout  man 
to  lean  on,  but  it's  strong  enough,  I  do  suppose,  for  them  that's 
infirm  of  mind  and  purpose.  The  houses  hope  huilds  are  castles  in 
the  air.  The  houses  of  th'e  wretched,  who  are  altogether  without 
hope,  are  too  dismal  to  live  in.  A  slight  infusion  of  hope  may  be 
prescribed  in  bad  cases ;  but  strong  doses  weaken  the  mind,  loosen 
the  morals,  and  destroy  the  happiness  of  those  who  indulge  in  them. 
The  true  rule  is,  perhaps,  not  to  let  hope  build  a  house  for  you,  or 
to  live  with  you  in  it ;  but  he  might  come  to  visit  you  sometimes,  to 
cheer  you  up  a  little,  by  talking  pleasant,  and  getting  you  to  look 
on  the  bright  side  of  things,  when  you  are  in  a  solemncholy  mood. 
Sope  is  a  pleasant  acquaintance,  hut  an  unsafe  friend.  He'll  do 
on  a  pinch  for  a  travellin'  companion,  hut  he  is  not  the  man  for 
your  banker.  ,  ., 


i*.  t! 


1£  'M 


182 


AN    OLD    F  il  1 E  N  I)   W  I  T  il    A    N  K  W    i'  A  0  E  . 


M'* 


■;  t 


,|i.:. .:,;:! 


!■! 


i  \ 


» 


CIIArTER   XIV. 


AN   OLD  nilEND   WITH   A   NEW   PACE. 


As  Pottor  retired  into  one  of  the  bed-rooms,  for  tlio  purpose  of 
carryin'  his  good  rcsohitions  into  eff'oot,  I  took  my  hat,  uiid  was  about 
to  proceed  by  the  path  to  Mr.  Nickersoii's  house,  when  Mrs.  J*otter, 
hastily  puttiu'  on  a  bonnet,  foUowed  mo  out.  The  moment  T  saw 
her  in  the  broad  day-light,  I  recognised  her  as  I'atty  Schneider,  the 
belle  of  the  coast,  but  now  sadly  changed  by  her  many  and  sore 
trials,  and  retainin'  but  little  that  vouched  for  her  former  beauty  and 
vivacity.  A  (jood  temper  must  be,  Ar/)t  cool  to  rctdui  its  Hwrr.tuess, 
Even  sugar,  when  fermented,  makes  vinegar,  and  sour  draughts 
moko  wry  faces.  Iler  cheerfulness  was  destroyed,  and  her  hus- 
band's ten^per  made  worse  by  the  poverty  into  which  they  had  fallen. 
,  Folks  talk  of  nations  and  colonies  being  capable  of  self-govern- 
ment. Show  me  one  man  or  woman  in  either  that  is  able  to  govern 
themselves.  Pride  and  consait  ruin  us  all,  and  we  know  it,  and  yet 
wo  flatter  the  pride  and  consait  of  the  public  to  rule  them.  Po- 
litical self-government  means  the  blind  leading  the  blind.  A  govern- 
ment is  an  asylum,  in  which  imbeciles  imagine  themselves  kings, 
queens,  and  statesmen,  and  are  indulged  in  their  delusions,  to  pre- 
serve the  peace  of  the  community. 

I  wish  they  would  make  a  statesman  of  Peter  Potter,  for  the  sake 
of  his  wife.  If  he  lived  on  the  pork  of  others,  so  do  Generals  and 
Admirals,  and  so  does  the  maimfacterers'  patriot  on  dear  sheer,  with 
his  subscription  fortin.  (yonliscatin'  his  neighbour's  pigs,  is  only  an 
humble  inutation  of  Louis  NapoleoH's  seizure  of  the  Orleans* 
estates.  Peter  has  been  enough  at  the  helm  to  larn  how  to  back 
and  fill.  What  more  does  n  y  Prime  Minister  know '/  But  I  must 
leave  him  to  shave,  and  talk  to  his  wife,  Patty  Schneider.  Poor 
thing !  she  had  known  bettor  times,  for  her  father  was  the  richest 
trader  on  the  coast  in  his  day.  Where  all  arc  poor,  it  don'i  take 
much  to  make  a  rich  man, 

"  Oh  Mr.  Samuel  1"  she  said,  "  how  happy  you  have  made  mo 
to-day !" 

**  Happy !"  sais  I  to  myself,  as  I  turned  and  looked  at  her  pale, 
melancholy,  holler,  dragged-looking  face,  her'  old  yaller  smoky  bon- 
net, her  faded  calico  gown,  lookin'  still  more  so  from  its  contrast 
with  a  clean  white  apron,  which,  womanlike,  she  had  quietly  slipped 
on  while  I  was  convarsiu'  with  her  husband  in  tho  house.     She  had 


AN    OLD    I'RIEND    WITH    A    NEW    FACE. 


m 


also  thrown  on  a  ttbawl,  to  cover  tho  ravages  of  wear  and  tear  on  her 
ilivss,-and  im  hIio  Hpoko,  huutily  and  almost  Htoalthilv,  adjuHtod  it  in 
its  j)laco,  and  rapidly  paHHin'  hur  hand  under  her  bonnet,  contined 
h(!i'  still  luxuriant  and  beautiful  hair  witiiin  its  narrow  limits.  lOven 
ill  this  hour  of  mingled  trouble  and  of  joy,  the  beeonun's  were  not 
wholly  forgotten.  VVoman  iti  ever  true  to  her  nnter;  and  what  wo 
are  pleased  to  eall  vanity,  and  female  folly,  i.s  tho  nusro  fulfilment  of 
tho  law  of  her  bein',  without  obeying  whieh,  she  would  soon  eoaso 
to  nil  tho  station  hhe  doHervedly  enjoys  in  every  civilized  nation. 
"  Happy  !"  sai.s  1  to  myself.  "  Dear  mo  !  if  ho  little  can  make  you 
h!i|>py,  what  a  brute  beast  your  husband  must  bo  to  make  you  ever 
unhappy.     J'atty,"  sais  1,  "you  sciom  thankful  for  small  favouru." 

"VVhatl"'  said  she.  "What  did  you  Bay  1'  Did  you  call  ino 
ratty'/'    Jlow  did  you  know  my  name  V 

"Didn't  l*eter  eall  you  i'atty  "/"  Hain  I.         -    ,.    ;     •  ■■ 

"No,  no,"  she  aaid.  "It  ia  a  name  of  love  that,  and  I  haven't 
heard  it  for  a  long  timi;,"  and  she  burst  into  tears. 

"  Why,  Mrs.  I'otter,"  sais  I,  "  for  1  Won't  call  you  Patty  no  more, 
lirst  because  it  sets  you  a-eryin' ;  and  Bceondly,  because,  as  you  say, 
it  is  a  word  of  love,  J'eter  uiay  not  like  it.  Why,  Mrs.  Potter,  just 
now  you  told  me  I  had  made  you  ha{)py,  and  hero  you  are  a-cryiu' 
away  like  an  April  shower,  jist  to  prove  it." 

"  Oh,  Sir !  that  word  Patty  called  up  tinies  that's  gouo  BO  sudden, 
that  it  quite  upset  mo. 

"  I  came  to  thank  you  with  all  my  heart,"  sho  said.  Your  kind- 
ness— " 

"Do  tell!"  sais  I.  "Now  don't  talk  that  day,"  (for  there's 
nothiu'  1  hate  so  much  as  thanks,  especially  from  a  woman ;  it  makes 
a  feller  feel  foolish,  and  you  don't  know  exactly  what  to  say).  So, 
sais  I,  "don't  talk  that  way;  Pve  done  no  kindness.  Wo  have 
made  a  fair  trade.  I've  got  a  good  hand,  and  your  husband  has  got 
good  wages.  There  ain't  no  obligation  in  it  ary  way,  and  say  no 
more  about  it." 

"Oh,  that's  not  it!"  she  said;  "you  didn't  want  him  at  all,  and 
you  know  it.  lie  could  have  got  wages  always,  but  ho  wouldn't 
work;  ho  said  it  was  useless.  You  have  made  him  feel  his  duty, 
opcnied  new  hopes  and  new  prospects  to  us  all,  and  niado  us  quite 
happy.     I  shall  never  forgot — "  '   :•?»>,    . 

"  Yes  you  will,  I'at— Mrs.  Potter,"  sais  I.  <       ': -- '-^■ 

"  Call  mo  Patty,"  said  she ;  "  only  friends  do  that,  and  you  have 

been  tho  best  friend  I  ever  had.     Jiut  that  word  beats  u)C ;  how  did 

you  know  it '(" 

"Didn'i  you  hear  him  say,  M)on't  cry,  Patty,'  "  sais  I,  "when 
you  cried  for  pleasure  seein'  him  consent  to  go  to  work '{" 

"No,"  sais  she,  doubtfully;  "I  don't  recollect,"  and  she  looked 
12 


134 


AN     OLD    FRIEND    WITH     A     NEW    FACE. 


.i^ 


at  me  scrutinizin'ly,  as  if  I  was  tryin'  to  conceal  somothin'  from  her. 
Said  she,  "  I  shall  never  forget." 

.;:, "  Yes  you  will,  I^atty.  Sit  down  hero  on  this  windfall  of  a  tree, 
an^  I'll  tell  you  what  wo  have  both  forgot.  How  are  you  agoin'  to 
get  ou  without  him  r"'  Poor  thing !  her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  I 
know'd  what  she  was  thiukin'  of;  times  gone  by,  when  she  couldn't 
have  borne  the  partin' ;  but  she  didn't  say  a  word  for  a  space.  Sais 
I,  "it's  usual  to  advance  some  of  the  wages  when  men  ship  that 
way,"  and  I  took  out  my  pocket-book,  and  opened  it,  and  began  to 
look  for  province  bills.     "  How  much  would  you  like  V  sais  I. 

"  I  won't  take  any  money,  Sir,"  she  said.  "  Settle  that  with  him, 
and  he  will  do  what's  right.  Ho  makes  himself  out  worse  than  he 
is,  and  as  he  is  detarmiued  to  throw  the  blame  on  the  shoulders  of 
others  j  he  paints  everything  as  black  as  possible-  That  story  of 
his  neighbours'  pigs  is  an  embellishment  of  his  own  imagination, 
I  would  hp,ve  died  before  I  would  have  tasted  provision  so  unj-^stly 
gotten." 

Thinking  she  might  be  left  to  starve  in  his  absence,  and  that  her 
refusal  arose  from  diffidence,  I  repeated  the  offer,  and  advised  her  to 
take  it;  but  she  promptly  but  civilly  refused.  As  I  was  returnin' 
the  notes  to  the  pocket  of  the  book,  she  put  out  her  hand,  and  said : 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Samuel !  what  a  beautiful  ring  that  is  !"  and  she  bent 
over  it  to  look  at  it.  It  was  paste  for  common  use,  but  a  capital 
imitation,  and  no  great  value. 

"  Do  you  like  it  ?"  sais  I. 

"  It's  the  handsomest  one  I  ever  saw,"  she  said. 

When  I  went  to  take  it  off,  I  found  she  had  a  portion  of  my  hand 
in  hers,  and  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  feel  her  rapidly  passing  her 
forefinger  lengthways  and  across  the  palm ;  but  I  thought  it  was 
accidental,  and  talked  on.  "Look  at  the  workmanship,"  sais  I, 
handin'  it  to  her.  "  Oh,  women,  women  !"  sais  I  to  myself,  "  ain't 
you  a  puzzle,  that's  all !  In  the  midst  of  hunger  and  tears,  and 
almost  rags,  a  diamond  ring  has  charms  in  your  eyes." 

It  lowered  her  in  my  estimation,  that's  a  fact,  more  nor  her 
refusal  of  her  husband's  wages  had  raised  her.  "Will  you  do  me 
the  favour  to  accept  it?"  sais  I.  "I  have  another,  and  I  guess  I 
have  no  use  for  this." 

"  Nor  I  nuther.  Sir,"  said  she.  "  That  ring  would  ill  become 
one  that  wants  the  common  necessaries  of  life.  It  would  hardly 
match  this  gown,  would  it?"  holdin'  up  a  small  piece  of  her  faded 
calico.  "  No,  Sir,  thank  you,  I  can't  take  it ;  but  let  me  put  it  on 
you,  please.  How  soft  and  white  your  hand  is,"  she  remarked,  "  in 
comparison  with  mine,"  holdin'  the  two  together  side  by  side,  and  I 
felt  the  same  light  pressure  of  her  forefinger  across  the  palm  of  my 
hand  as  before. 

"Poor  thing!"  sais  I  to  myself,  "I  have  wronged  you  both 


AN    OLD    FRIEND    WITH    A    NEW    FACE.  185j 

times ;  I  did  think  you  would  have  had  the  precaution  to  put  the 
advance  to  your  husband,  where  it  ought  to  go  —  into  your  pocket. 
13ut  your  sense  of  honour  was  stronger  than  your  sense  of  hunger 
or  expediency ;  and  I  did  think  you  longed  for  the  ring,  and  that 
your  vanity  was  stronger  than  your  judgment.  Man  like,  I  have 
wronged  you,  and  I  believe  in  my  soul,  it  ain't  the  first  time  by  a- 
long  chalk,  that  I  have  put  a  wrong  construction  on  a  woman. 
Poor  critter  I  the  higher  I  thought  of  her,  the  more  I  pitied  her. 
But  while  I  was  a  tryin'  to  find  out  her  character,  she  was  busy  a 
tryiu'  to  find  out  mine.  That  word  "  Patt/'  had  created  doubts ; 
takin'  the  trouble  to  preach  to  "  stick-in-the-mud"  her  husband,  and 
to  hire  him  when  she  thought  I  didn't  want  him,  ofi'erin'  her  money, 
and  then  a  handsome  gold  ring,  all  put  together,  made  a  considerable 
case  of  suspicion  agin  me.  I  began  to  sink  in  value  accordin'  to  her 
appraisement  of  me.  When  she  put  the  ring  on  my  finger,  she  con- 
trived to  sit  down  agin  on  a  stump  just  opposite  to  me,  and  not  on 
the  trunk  of  the  same  tree. 

"Mr.  Samuel,"  said  she,  "who  in  the  world  are  you?  Is  this 
what  they  call  mesmerism,  or  what  is  it '/  You  have  bewitched  my 
boys,  you  have  altered  Potter  into  a  new  man,  and  you  have  made 
me  so  happy.  I  only  want  to  know  one  thing  to  make  it  parfect, 
and  that  is,  is  it  all  real  ?  I  feel  scared.  You  are  not  what  you 
seem  to  be." 

"What  makes  you  think  so,  Patty  ?"  .  .Li-/^'''  ^ 

"  Oh,  there  it  is  agin  ! — Patty !  Oh,  that's  reading  backwards — 
that's  mesmerism.  I  have  seen  you  when  I  was  a  child,"  she  said ; 
"I  saw  you  to  Boston,  to  school  there.  I  know  your  voice;  I 
played  with  you  in  the  churchyard.  When  you  first  spoke,  you 
startled  me ;  it  was  like  a  far-off  sound  on  the  ear !" 

She  was  excited ;  her  eyes  lighted  up  brilliant,  and  she  railly  did 
look  beautiful.  "  Don't  deceive  yourself,"  I  said  ;  "  I  never  was  at 
school  at  Boston  in  my  life,  and  our  childhood  days  were  spent  far 
apart,  as  our  after  days  will  be." 

"  Still  you  are  not  what  you  seem  to  be,"  she  said.  "  While  you 
thought  my  aching  eyes,  that  were  filled  with  tears,  were  admirin' 
your  ring,  I  was  examinin'  your  hand.  Look  here,  Sir,"  and  she 
rose,  and  taking  it  in  hers,  turned  up  the  palm. 

"  You  are  no  sea  captin,  Sir.  Those  fingers  never  handled  ropes. 
There  is  no  tar  there,  and  hard  callous  skin  —  it's  softer  than  a 
woman's.     What  does  the  like  of  you  want  of  a  seaman?"       :,.  •  .^ 

"  Well,  I  am  not  a  skipper,"  sals  I,  "  that's  a  fact." 

"In  the  name  of  goodness,  then,''  she  said,  "who  and  what  are 
you?  Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  man  having  control  of  a  vessel, 
captin,  crew,  and  all;  or  half  a  dozen  vessels  fitted  and  manned? 
Is  that  an  oncommon  thing  ?" 

"  I  think,  Mrs.  Potter,  you  are  gettin'  on  too  fast  when  you  are 


•i  ■■ 


180 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  WITH  A  NEW  FACE. 


frightened  because  a  man's  hand  is  not  hard  that  don't  work  with  it; 
that  wears  a  ring  because  ho  can  afford  it;  and  hires  a  man,  either 
because  ho  wants  hiin,  or»bcc:iusc  ho  pleases,  and  then  stand  off  as 
high  cock-spotty  as  a  partridge,  and  sing  out  mesmerism.  You  are 
weh^omo  to  your  thoughts,"  sals  I.  "  1  can't  stand  lower  in  your 
estimation  than  I  do  in  my  own.  I  never  pretended  to  be  a  great 
man,  or  great  shakes  of  any  kind.  No  woman  ever  took  mo  for 
either.  If  she  had,  she'd  a  snapped  mo  up  long  ago  as  quick  as  a 
duck  does  a  June  bug.  If  it  pleases  you  to  make  fun  of  me,  you'd 
better  bo  quick  then,  or  Eldad  will  bo  here,  and  that's  the  last  you 
will  ever  sco  of  me." 

"  Oh  I  1  am  foolish  or  light-headed !"  she  said.  "  This  onex- 
pected  turn  of  happiness  seemed  incredible — impossible  !  I  couldn't 
realise  it  all  at  once !  I  thought  I  had  know'd  you  in  childhood.  I 
sec  how  it  is  now.  I  have  seen  you  in  a  dream  —  a  long-forgotten 
dream — and  now  you  are  fulfillin'  it  1  Yes,  that's  it.  I  see  it  now 
—  it's  the  hand  of  Providence  !  I'll  never  forget  you,  my  kind, 
good  friend,  as  long  as  I  live  j"  and  she  shook  me  cordially  by  the 
hand. 

"  Yes  you  will,  Patty ;  you  won't  as  much  as  remember  my  name 
soon,  let  alone  Aiy  face.  A  word  of  advice  is  a  small  matter,  and 
not  worth  rememberin',  but  to  foller.  As  to  memory,  you  don't 
know,  as  well  as  I  do.  A  dear-  old  friend  of  mine  used  to  say  : 
*  The  tncmori/  of  j^ast  favours  is  like  a  raitibmo,  hrifj/ht,  vivid^  and 
oeautifid ;  hut  it  soon  fades  axoay.  The  mcmo.y  of  injuries  is  en- 
graved on  the  heart,  and  remains  for  ever'  " 

"It  may  bo  so  with  men.  Sir,"  she  said,  "and  I  believe  it  is; 
but  it  aint  so  with  women.  Men  are  selfish,  and  take  everything 
as  their  due ;  and  if  their  memory  is  bad,  it  is  because  they  arc  too 
consaited  to  charge  it.  13ut  women  —  have  you  a  woman  ?  If  I 
may  be  so  bold,  are  you  married  V 

"  No,"  I  replied,  "  I  have  no  wife,  and  never  had .  I  am  a  bird 
of  passage — here  to-day  and  gone  to-morrow  —  and  'nrvven't  had  lei- 
sure to  think  of  marriage." 

"  Well,  it's  time  you  did,"  she  said.  "  You  deserve  a  good  wife, 
and  I  hope  you  will  get  one.    I  am  sure  you  would  be  kind  to  her." 

"  The  time  is  past  now,"  said  I,  mock  modestly.  "  I  am  too  old ; 
and,  as  an  old  aunt  of  mine  onct  said :  *  them  that  I'd  have,  wouldn't 
have  me,  and  them  that  would  have  me,  the  devil  wouldn't  have.' 
Patty,"  sais  I,  "  the  fox  that  had  his  tail  cut  off,  wanted  to  persuade 
every  other  fox  to  try  the  short  dock,  too." 

As  I  said  that,  I  saw  she  took  it  wrong,  for  her  eyes  filled  with 
tears.  She  thought  I  meant  more  than  I  said.  It  is  strange,  but 
true  notwithstanding :  the  faith  and  the  courage  of  women  is  indo- 
mitable. A  gall  makes  shipwreck  of  everything  by  gettin'  married 
in  haste,  and  repentin'  at  leisure.     No  sooner  is  she  a  widder,  than 


AN    OLD    FRIEND    WITH    A    NEW    PACE. 


137  W 


hho  ventures  to  sea  again,  risks  hor  all  in  another  voyago  as  full  of 
coiilidcncc  us  ever;  and  when  the  sUirnis  come,  and  the  ship  is  dis- 
masted, and  she  is  pieked  up  in  the  life-boat  halt-drowned,,  hulf- 
.starvcd,  half-nuked,  and  alone  in  the  waste  of  waters,  no  sooner  doea 
she  reach  hind  and  mix  in  the  gay  world  agin,  before  the  idea  crosses 
her  mind  that  better  luck  is  still  in  store  for  her. 

The  storms  are  over —  storms  don't  rage  for  ever  —  the  sky  looks 
serene,  aud  noi,  a  ripplo  is  seen  on  the  ocean.  Fair  weather  sailin' 
is  a  pleasant  thing,  the  temptation  is  too  strong,  and  she  is  ready 
to  ctnbark  again.  Why  not?  ])oes  it  follow  because  the  leeward 
is  all  black,  wild,  and  dreary,  that  the  sweet  windward  sky  shall 
ever  again  be  overcast  by  the  tempest  and  the  thunder-clouds  ?  Not 
a  bit  of  it.  Go  it,  my  little  widder,  when  you  arc  young.  The 
game  of  life  is  not  played  out  with  one  or  two  hands.  Who  knows 
what  are  on  the  cards ;  and  diamonds  is  trumps  now  if  hearts  aiut. 
I  was  sorry  I  alluded  to  the  fox's  tail.  She  thought  it  was  a  jibe. 
Wounded  irride  should  be  touched  lujhtli/.  The  skin  is  thin  and 
pliKjij  scnsative. 

"i'atty,"  sais  I,  ''you  are  generous  to  say  you  won't  forget  me, 
but  you  feel  more  grateful  on  account  of  your  pretty  boys  than 
yourself  You  see  light  breakin'  ahead  already  for  them — don't  bo 
otfeiided.  I  know  you  will  forget  both  me  and  my  name  too.'* 
•  '•  Never,  never/'  said  she,  with  great  emphasis ;  "  never,  as  long 
as  I  live.  What  makes  you  think  so  meanly  of  me  ?  I  think  you 
have  been  a  guardian  angel  sent  by  Providence." 

Well,  I  repeated  them  words,  "  guardian  angel,"  slow. 

"  The  very  same,"  said  I.  "  IIow  strange !  were  you  Patty 
Sehiicider'V"  _  .  -•,.,. 

"Yes  sir,"  she  said.  -        "  '^^"''' 

"  A  guardian  angel,  sent  by  Providence,"  said  I.  "  Exactly ! 
that's  the  very  words  he  said  you  used.  It's  a  favourite  word  of 
yours  J  and  yet  you  forgot  him." 

"  Forgot  who,  sir '(  It's  a  false  accusation  ?  Forgot  who,  sir  ? 
Tray  do  tell  me?" 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  I  was  in  England  last  year,  and  there  I  met  a 
man  who  told  me  a  capital  story  about  you.  He  larfed  ready  to  kill 
himself." 

"  I  am  much  obleeged  to  him,  I  am  sure,"  she  said,  with  a  toss 
of  her  head ;  "  he  is  welcome  to  his  good  story.  Who  was  he,  the 
impident  fellow  ?"  • 

"He  said  ne  was  travelling  once  on  the  Barrington  road,  the 
matter  of  some  years  ago  now,  in  his  waggon,  with  a  fast-trotting 
horse  he  had.  It  was  a  lonely  part  of  the  road,  and  a  woman  mis- 
took him  for  a  doctor,  and  called  to  him  to  stop  and  advise  her  about 
her  children;  one  had  just  died  of  scarlet-fever,  and  two  others  were 
dangerously  ill.  Well,  while  he  was  talkin'  to  the  poor  woman,  one 
9*  - 


138 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  WITH  A  NEW  FACE. 


of  tbo  most  beautiful  girls  he  ever  laid  07  js  on,  passed  by  on  foot.    A 
rael  clipper — tall,  straight,  well-built,  perhaps  overly  tall,  plump  as 
a  partridge,  eyes  like  a  snappin'  turtle,  teeth  like  ivory,  lips  like — " 
'' ''  Well,  never  mind  her  lips.     Who  was  she,  tell  me  quick  ?'* 

"Stop,''  sais  I,  "  till  I  get  this  plaguey  knife  open,  J.  can't  talk 
unless  I  whittle.     Her  lips  were  so — "  -      , 

"  Never  mind  her  lips." 
•    "  Well,  her  neck  and  bust — ' '  . 

"  Well,  never  mind  them ;  who  was  that  gall  ?  Who  did  ho 
say?     I  think  I  know  what  he  is  at  now.'  ■  ' 

.  *' '  Who  is  that  splendiferous  gall  V  said  he. 

"  Ho  didn't  say  no  such  thing,"  she  replied ;  "  them  is  embellish- 
ments of  your  own." 

"  *  That,'  sais  she,  '  is  Patty  Schneider,  the  dai  ter  of  old  Cap- 
ting  Schneider,  of  lloseway,  the  most  sponsible  man  in  these  parts.' 

"  Wnll,  arter  b-^  had  instructed  the  poor  critter,  the  best  way  he 
could,  what  to  do  about  her  children— for  ho  was  a  man  that  by  trav- 
elling abo'ife  everywher'^^  had  picked  up  a  little  of  everything  amost — 
and  encourafred  hov  the  best  way  he  could,  he  proceeded  on  his  jour- 
ney; aiid  as  he  was  jogglu'  on,  he  thought  to  himself,  how  in  the 
world  did  that  beautiful  young  lady  get  across  them  places  in  the 
swamp,  where  the  water  covers  the  road,  without  wettin'  her  shoes 
and  stockings  ?  She  must  have  taken  them  off,  and  waded  as  the 
snipes  do." 

"  I  didn't  do  no  such  thing,"  she  said.  "  Oh  dear  !  oh  dear !  To 
think  I  should  have  been  talked  of  in  that  way  by  that  feller.  It's 
too  bad,  I  declare,"  and  she  rested  her  elbows  on  her  knees,  and  put 
her  hands  to  her  liice.    "  Go  on,"  she  said,  "  what  else  did  he  say  ?" 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  arter  a  while  he  heard  the  screams  of  a  woman 
in  distress,  and  he  pushed  on,  and  he  saw  a  head  and  bonnet  stickin' 
out  of  the  bog.  And  when  he  came  up,  the  water  was  across  the 
road;  and  it  appeared  the  young  woman  that  had  passed  some  time 
afore,  in  tryin'  to  cross  over  on  a  fallen  tree  that  lay  there,  had  slip- 
ped off,  and  was  up  to  her  neck  in  the  quag,  and  would  have  sunk 
over  her  head,  if  she  hadn't  caught  hold  of  the  log  with  both  hands, 
and  was  screamin'  and  scrcachin'  for  dear  life." 

"  Well,  part  of  that  is  true,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  he  said  he  was  puzzled  to  know  what  to  do  next,  or  how 
in  the  world  to  get  her  out,  for  fear  her  weight  would  pull  him  in 
head  first,  the  ground  was  so  slippery.  But  brticin'  one  '.oot  agin 
the  log,  and  the  other  agin  the  road,  he  stooped  liis  head  close  down 
to  her.  *  Now,'  sais  he,  '  put  your  arms  round  my  neck,  and  I  will 
lift  you  up.' 

"  *  I  can't,'  riid  che.  *  If  I  let  go  my  hold,  I  shall  sink  out  of 
Bight,  for  I  can't  touch  bottom  here,  and  my  strength  is  een  a' most 
gone.*  • 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  WITH  A  NEW  PACE. 


139 


Who  did  he 


is  embellish- 


'  Try/  said  he ;  '  put  one  arm  round  first,  and  I  will  hold  on  to 
it,  and  then  try  the  other,  and  if  you  can  hook  on  that  way  I  think 
I  can  haul  you  out.' 

<'Well,  arter  a  while,  she  was  a  huggin'  of  his  neck  instead  of 
the  log,  and  he  streighted  himself  up,  and  after  a  most  desperate  pull, 
fetched  up  the  upper  part  of  her ;  and  a  most  powerful  pull  it  was 
too,  the  bog  sucked  so  hard.  But  what  to  do  then,  he  didn't  know, 
for  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  take  a  fresh  hold  of  her,  and  there 
was  no  rcstin' -place  for  her  feet  to  help  him.  -/• 

" '  How  much  more  of  you  is  there  left?'  sais  he;  and  he  couldn't 
help  larfin',  now  that  the  worst  was  over.  '  Take  a  higher  hold  of 
me,  and  I  will  take  a  lower  grip  of  you,  and  give  you  another  bouss 
up.' 

"  Oh  dear !"  said  Mrs.  Potter  with  a  groan,  "  that  I  should  ever 
hear  of  this  again.  It  warnt  the  part  of  a  man  to  go  and  tell  of 
such  an  accident." 

"  Well,  he  gave  her  another  start,  and  out  she  came,  all  covered 
over  with  black  slime,  and  without  her  shoes,  for  the  suction  was  so 
great,  it  was  a  wonder  i<  hadn't  drawn  her  feet  off  too.  '  Well,'  he 
said,  '  the  young  lady  thanked  him  kindly,  said  she  never  would  for- 
get him  the  longest  day  she  ever  lived,  he  had  been  .sent  by  Provi- 
dence as  a  guardian-angel'  for  her  (the  very  words  you  used  to-day 
to  nie),  and  that  he  replied  you  was  the  angel,  and  not  him ;  and 
that  tliese  two  angels  stood  in  the  road  there  for  a  few  seconds  all 
covered  with  black  mud,  dirty  sluime,  and  green  water,  cxtLangin* 
a  few  kisses  of  gratitude,  and  that  he  never  could  think  of  it  arter- 
wards  without  larfin,  it  was  so  droll  a  scene.' " 

''Did  he  now  actilly  say  all  that,  or  are  you  making  of  it?" 

"  Why  you  Know  whether  it  is  true,  or  not;  is  that  correct?" 

"  Well,  it's  none  of  your  affair,  whether  it  is  or  not.  A  body  at 
such  a  time  could  hardly  say  what  they  did." 

"Well,"  said  I,  ''he  wouldn't  be  much  of  a  man,  with  a  hand- 
some woman  in  his  arms,  and  her  face  rubbin'  agin  hisin  for  so  long 
a  time,  if  he  didn't  manage  to  lot  the  lips  meet;  and  I  don't  think 
the  young  lady  would  have  acted  naterally  to  be  angry  —  at  lea:t, 
that's  my  opinion.  But  the  worst  is  to  be  told  yet.  He  sais  it's  a 
pity  they  ever  met  again." 

"They  never  did  meet  again,"  she  replied;  "I  never  sot  eyes  on 
him  from  that  day  to  this." 

"Are  you  sure?" 

"  As  trae,  Sir,  as  I  am  talking  to  you,  I  never  saw  him,  and  never 
heard  of  him  since;  and  what's  more,  never  found  out  his  name." 

^'  lie  went  to  your  house  some  years  arterwards,  ae  said,  but  you 
didn't  or  wouldn't  know  him.  Whether  you  was  afraid  of  Mr.  Potter 
hearin'  it,  or  didn't  wish  to  recal  the  obligation  to  mind,  ho  didn't 
know,  but  you  took  no  more  notice  of  him  than  any  other  stranger. 


-  .1 


140 


'■■•y. 


CHAT    IN    A    CALM. 


7^' 


Ho  felt  hurt,  I  assure  you.  lie  said  ho  didn't  blame  you;  you 
miglit  have  had  your  reasons,  but  ho  must  have  been  greatly  altered, 
.i'if  you  had  really  forgot  him  that  way." 

**  I  tell  you,  Sir,  honestly  and  fairly,  there  aint  a  word  of  truth 
in  saying,.  I  didn't  know  him  again;  for  I  tell  you  I  never  saw  him 
afterwards,"  ^     '  "  '  ^'> 

"  Oh  !  ycs,^'  sais  I;  "  I  can  tell  you  time  and  place;  I  can  bring 
it  to  your  mind  exactly,"  .  ^ 

"  When  and  where  then  ?"  said  she. 

"  This  very  day,"  said  I,  "  in  your  own  house,  and  now  here.  I 
am  the  man;  and  my  name  is  Sam  Slick,  the  Clockmakcr." 


CHAPTER   XV.  :         ■• 

CHAT   IN  A   CALM. 

Having  shipped  Mr.  Eldad  Nickerson  as  a  pilot,  and  Mr.  Peter 
"Potter  as  a  "  hand,"  we  set  sail  for  the  settlement  at  Jordan.  We 
were  becalmed  off  the  entrance  of  the  river ;  and  as  we  lay  motion- 
less on  the  glassy  surface  of  the  sea,  we  found  ourselves  at  no  great 
distance  iiom  an  Indian  encampment  on  ihe  extreme  point  of  the 
beach,  from  which  several  canoes  issued  in  pursuit  of  the  porposes, 
which  were  revelling  in  a  shoal  of  herring.  As  these  sleek,  alder- 
men-lgokin'  fellows  ros,o  to  the  surface  in  their  roly-poly  sort  or  play, 
or  leapt  from-  the  water  to  show  their  pretty  figures,  (for  even  fish 
pride  themselves  on  what  they  haiut  got),  they  were  Ibot  at  by  the 
man  in  the  bow  of  the  canoe,  and  two  ^n  the  stern  paddled  with  all 
their  might  in  chase,  while  the  former  exchanged  his  gun  for  a  spear, 
and  stood  ready  to  strike  th'^.  criitur,  and  draw  him  in  over  the  bows, 
a  slight  of  hand  that  nobody  but  an  Indian  could  perform  in  so  tot- 
lis'..  aud  dangerous  a  craft  as  a  bark-canoe.  The  first  fish  that  waa 
pursued,  tho'  hit  by  the  ball,  escaped  the  spear,  dived,  and  disap- 
peared from  view. 

"  Well  done,  feminine  gender,"  said  Eldad,  addressin'  himself  to 
the  cabin  party  on  the  after  part  of  the  deck,  "  well  done,  feminine 
gender,"  alludin*  to  the  porpose ;  "  you  gave  Tony  Cope,  the  Indjin, 
the  dodge  that  time  any  how.  You  must  put  on  more  steam,  Tony, 
if  you  want  to  catch  them  ere  sea-going  craft ;  they  have  high-pres- 
sure engines  them  navvies,  and  never  burst  their  boilers  neither.  He 
hr.d  better  a  gi'cu  in  tho'  to  you  than  run  thro'  the  fleet,  as  she  will 
have  to  do  now.  You  aint  half  such  a  savage,  Tony,  as  her  own 
Becd  breed  and  generation  is  —  that's  my  logic  at  any  rate." 

''■'  How  can  you  tell  it's  a  female  porpoise  ?"  said  the  captain. 

"  Ay,"  said  I,  "  how  can  you  say  so  at  this  distance  ?" 


M.- 


■// 


OHAT     TN     A    CAIiM. 


141 


"What  will  you  bet?"  said  the  mate,  "it's  a  she  porpoise?" 
"  Five  dollars/'  said  the  pilot.     '•  Cover  them,"  holding  out  the 
silver  coins  in  his  hand ;  "  cover  them,"  which  was  no  sooner  done 
than  ho  quietly  put  them  into  his  pocket.  y      i  '-  V'^„;>r^| 

"  Who  shall  decide  ?"  said  the  mate. 

"I^ll  leave  it  to  yourself,"  said  Eldad,  coolly.     "I'll  take  your 
own  word  for  it,  that's  fair,  aint  it  ?" 

"  Well  it  is  so,  that's  a  fact."  '      •  ~  .    \  J.  • 

"  Jump  overboard  then,  and  swim  off  and  see  if  I  aint  right." 
The  loud  laugh  of  the  men  who  heard  the  catch,  rewarded  the  joke. 
"But  here  is  your  money,'/  he  said;  "I  know  it  to  be  fact,  and  a 
bet  is  only  fair  when  there  is  a  chance  of  losin',  that's  my  logic,  at 
any  rate." 
"  How  do  you  know  it  then  ?"  said  the  skipper. 
"Because  it  stands  to  reason,  to  natur'  and  to  logic." 
"We'.l,  i^ome,"  said  the  captain,  "let  us  sit  down  here  and  see 
how  j'»u    ^  va  the  gender  of  the  fish  by  reason,  natur'  and  logic  ?" 
"^     '"      L^aid  Eldad,  "there   is   natur'  in  all  things.     Among 
humans  there  is  three  kinds,  white  natur',  nigger  natur',  and  Indjin 
natur' ;  then  there  is  fish  natur',  and  horse  natur',  mosquito  natur', 
and  snakes  natur',  and  he  natur',  and  she  natur',  at  least  that's  my 
logic.     Well,  it's  the  natur'  of  porpoirses,  when  a  she  one  gets 
wounded,  that  all  the  other  porpoirses  race  right  arter  her,  and  chase 
her  to  death.     They  show  her  no  marcy.     Human  natur'  is  the  same 
as  fish  natur'  in  this  particler,  and  is  as  sealyi||^o.     When  a  woman 
get  a  wound  from  an  arrow  shot  out  by  scandal,  or  envy,  or  malice, 
or  falsehood,  for  not  keeping  her  eye  on  the  compass,  and  shapin' 
her  course  as  she  ought  to,  men,  women,  and  boys,  parsons,  and  their 
tca-goin'  gossipin'  wi  /es,  pious  galls  and  prim  old  maids,  all  start  oflf 
in  full  cry  like  a  r'i(k  of  bloodhounds  arter  her,  and  tear  her  to 
pieces;  and  if  s^     c;  -itiS,  and  has  the  luck  to  get  safe  into  a  hole 
fust,  they  howl  '^x         a  "ound  it  every  time  she  shows  her  nose,  like 
EG  many  imps  ot  uai :  L' .^s-      It's  the  race  of  charity,  to  see  which 
long-legged,  cantin',  biiioi!..  -lookin'  crittur  can  be  in  first  at  the  death. 
They  turn  up  the  white  of  their  eyes  like  ducks  in  thunder,  at  a  fox- 
hunt, it's  so  wicked;  but  a  gall-hunt  they  love  dearly,  it's  'servin' 
the  liord.' " 
"But  that  s'ill  don't  prove  it's  a  female  porpoise,"  said  Cutler 
"Yes  it  does,''  replied  Eldad;  "they  darn't  sarve  a  man  that 
way;  if  they  get  up  a  hunt  on  L'  a,  he  don't  run,  he  shows  fight; 
he  turns  round  -   ,d  says,  '  Come  on  one  at  a  tii.e,  and  I'll  handle 
you,  or  two  toj^:  ■    r,  if  y  a  like,  you  cowards,  or  all  in  a  heap,  and 
I'll  fight  till  I  die,  buL  I  won't  run;'  that's  he-natur,  you  see..  Now 
if  the  woufided  porpoise  was  a  male,  wouldn't  he  turn  also,  butt 
with  his  head,  and  thrash  with  his  tail,  like  a  brave  fellow  ?  he'd  a 
seen  'em  shot  and  speared  first,  afore  he'd  run.     No,  the  natur*  of  a 


!.    I 

'   ( 

if 

» 

I'i 

>'m4 

f       ^ 

^-r-m 

y     'M 

11 

\ 


142 


CHAT    IN    A    CALM 


/M, 


If 


l'^ 


wounded  gall  and  a  wounded  she-porperse  is  to  run  for  it ;  so  that 
fish  is  feminine-gender,  according  to  my  logic.  And  now,  captin," 
he  continued,  "  I  reckon  it  would  be  aa  well  to  order  the  boat  out, 
and  we  will  give  the  'Black  Hawk'  a  pull  a  few  hundred  yards 
further  out.  She  is  driftin'  too  near  that  point,  and  the  water  shoals 
rapidly  there ;  an  ounce  of  precaution  is  worth  a  pound  of  cure,  at 
least,  that's  my  logic." 

"  All  right/'  said  Cutler.  "  Mate,  attend  to  the  orders  of  the 
pilot."  ^     .    . 

While  this  little  operation  was  being  performed,  the  skipper  and 
I  paced  the  deck,  and  discoursed  on  the.  subject  of  the  pilot's  ana- 
logy between  female  porpoises  and  women. 

"  Is  it  true,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  "  that  mankind  shows  so  little 
charity  to  a  woman  who  is  so  ^mfortunate  as  to  attract  observation? 
I  have  moved  so  little  in  the  -^  . '  ^  ^  was  not  aware  of  it,  altho'  I 
know  Scott  says : 

"  *  And  ev'ry  fault  a  tear  can  claim, 
Except  an  erring  sister's  shame.'  " 

"It  is  a  melancholy  truth,"  said  I;  ^'it  is  coicardice  in  man,  and 
cruelty  in  wdman.  It  is  the  worst  trait  in  human  natur',  and  the 
most  remarkable  fact  is,  that  women  whose  conduct  is  not  altogether 
free  from  blame,  are  the  loudest  in  their  outcry.  They  yelp  shriller 
than  if  they  was  hit  themselves.  It  is  a  bad  sign.  A  tooman  lolio 
wants  a  charitable  liMu't,  wants  a  pure  mind.  The  measure  of  a 
female's  judgment  must  he  her  own  feelings ;  and  if  she  judges 
harshly,  her  feelings  are  not  delicate.  Her  experience  is  her  own, 
and  if  that  is  adverse,  it  ought  at  least  to  impose  silence.  Innocence 
is  not  suspicious,  hut  guilt  is  always  ready  to  turn  informer.  But 
here  is  the  pilot ;  he  is  an  odd  chap,  aint  he  ?  and  a  bit  of  a  hu- 
mourist, too.  That  fellow  will  amuse  us  when  we  have  nothin' 
to  do." 

When  Eldad  resumed  his  place,  I  took  up  the  conversation  where 
he  had  left  it. 

"  If  the  female  creation,"  said  I,  "  Mr.  Nickerson,  suffer  parsecu- 
tion  sometimes,  particularly  women,  perhaps  it's  as  like  as  not  they 
haint  been  prudent ;  but  sometimes  they  give  it  to  the  males  pro- 
perly, you  may  depend ;  and  they  aint  without  defence,  neither.  If 
a  woman  aint  able  for  a  stand-up  fight,  and  her  little  hand  aint  no 
good  to  box,  her  tiny  fingers  can  clapper,  claw,  and  scratch,  like 
thorns,  and  flay  a  man  alive  amost." 

"Exactly,"  said  Eldad;  ''they  attend  meetin'  oftnor  nor  men, 
and  hijve  the  ten  commandments  at  their  f  tigers'  ends." 

"Oh!  Mr.  Nickerson,"  said  Cutler,  "that's  very  irreverent." 

"And  then  natur'  has  given  her  a  tongue,"  sais  I,  "so  loose  and 
iley  on  its  hinge,  it's  the  nearest  thing  in  creation  to  perpetual  mo- 


j*^ 


^* 


(/ 


CHAT    IN    A    CALM, 


148 


rders  of  the 


"  nor  men, 


tion.  Oh !  if  over  you  was  iu  a  fish-market  to  London,  you'd  hear 
'em  use  it  in  perfection !  Don't  the  words  come  easy,  and  such 
words,  too,  no  livin'  soul  ever  hcerd  afore ;  not  jaw-breakin'  words, 
such  as  black  gentlemen  use  to  show  their  knowledge  of  dictionary, 
but  heart-breakin'  words,  not  heavy,  thick,  and  stinging.  Why  they 
call  a  feller  more  names  in  a  minnit  than  would  sarve  half  the  Spa- 
nish grandees,  and  one  of  them  chap's  namtj  covers  the  whole  out- 
sidt  of  a  letter,  and  hardly  leave  room  for  the  place  of  direction  at 
the  cend  of  it.  Pretty  names  they  use,  too,  do  those  fish-women, 
only  they  have  a  leetle — just  a  leetle  —  taint  about  'em,  and  aint 
quite  as  sweet  as  stale  fish.  There  never  was  a  man  yet  could  stand 
thera.  Well,  if  they  can't  fight,  and  are  above  slang,  and  scorn 
scoldin',  they  can  tease  beautiful,  aud  drive  a  man  ravin'  dis- 
tracted mad. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  a  horse  race  and  chase,  tear  and  bang,  jump 
and  kick,  moan  and  groan,  round  and  round,  over  and  over  a  paster', 
with  his  mouth  open,  his  nostrils  spread  wide,  his  eyes  starin',  his 
tail  up,  his  body  all  covered  with  foam,  and  he  ready  to  drop  down 
dead):'  Well,  that  gi'eat  big  critter  aint  hurt,  he  is  only  teased; 
touched  on  the  flank,  and  then  in  the  ear,  tickled  where  the'  skin  is 
thin,  and  stung  where  it  is  off.  Why  it's  nothin'  after  all,  that  does 
that,  but  a  teasin',  tormentin'  hornet;  you  co  ddn't  do  it  yourself 
with  a  whip,  if  you  was  to  die  for  it.  Well,  a  woman  can  sarve  a 
man  the  same  way;  a  sly  little  jibe  here,  another  touch  there,  now 
on  his  pride,  then  on  bis  faults,  here  on  his  family,  there  on  his 
friends,  and  then  a  little  accidental  slip  o'  the  tongue,  done  on  pur- 
pose, that  reaches  the  jealous  spot;  away  the  poor  critter  goes  at  that 
last  sting,  he  can't  stand  it  no  more;  he  is  furious,  and  throws  down 
his  hat,  and  kicks  it  (he  can't  kick  her,  that  aint  manly),  and  roars 
and  bellows  like  a  bull,  till  he  can't  utter  no  more  words,  and  then 
off  he  goes  to  cool  his  head  by  drivin'  himself  into  a  fever. 

"Oh!  beautiful  play  that;  you  may  talk  of  playin'  a  salmon  arter 
he  is  hooked,  and  the  sport  of  seein'  him  jump  clean  out  of  the 
water  iu  his  struggles,  a-racin'  off  and  being  snubbed  again,  and 
reeled  up,  till  he  is  almost  bagged,  when  dash,  splash,  he  makes 
another  spring  for  it,  and  away  he  goes  as  hard  as  he  can  lick,  and 
out  runs  the  line,  whirr-rr !  and  then  another  hour's  play  afore  he 
gives  in. 

"  Well,  it's  grand,  there's  no  doubt.  It's  very  excitin' ;  but  what 
is  that  sport  to  seein'  a  woman  play  her  husband  ?  The  wife,  too,  is 
just  such  another  little  gaudy-lookin'  fly  as  that  which  the  salmon 
was  fool  enough  to  be  hooked  with,  and  got  up  just  as  nateral.  Oh  ! 
how  I  have  watched  one  of  'era  afore  now  at  that  game  !  Don't  she 
enjoy  it,  the  little  dear,  smilin'  all  the  Hme  like  an  angel,  most 
bewitchin'  sweet;  bright,  little  eyes,  sparklin'  like  diamonds,  and 
tier  teeth  looJii»'  jso  white,  and  her  face  so  composed,  and  not  a 


Jlfx-t 


mm 


144 


CHAT   IN    A   CALM. 


/■• 


V 


f^'- 


.   ! 


*     * 


ii.i 


breath  to  heavo  her  beautiful  bosom,  or  swell  her  allcrbastor  neck, 
but  us  quiet  and  as  gentle  throughout  as  one  of  the  graces;  and  her 
Words  so  sweet,  all  honey,  and  usin'  such  cndoarin'  names  too,  you'd 
think  she  was  courtin'  amost.  But  thi'  honey  makes  tho  words 
stick,  and  tho  fond  names  cdver  a  sting,  and  some  phrases  that  are 
so  kind  have  a  hidden  meaning  that  makes  poor  hubby  jump  right 
on  cend,  and  when  ho  roars  with  pain  and  rage,  she  lays  down  her 
pencil  or  her  embroidery,  and  looks  up  in  surprise,  for  she  was  occu- 
pied before,  and  didn't  notice  uothin'.  Oh!  what  a  look  of  asto- 
nishment vshc  puts  on. 

it  <  Why  my  dearest  love,'  sais  she,  '  what  is  the  matter  with  you, 
aint  you  well?  IIow  wild  you  look!  lias  anything  excited  you ? 
Is  there  anything  in  the  world  I  can  do  for  you  V 

"  He  can't  stand  it  no  longer,  so  he  bolts.  As  soon  as  he  is  gone, 
tho  little  cherub  wife  lays  back  her  head  and  smiles. 

'' '  Succumb  is  a  charming  man,  Mr.  Slick,  and  one  of  the  kindest 
and  best  husbands  in  the  world,  only  he  is  a  little  touchy  and  hasty- 
tempered  sometimes,  don't  you  think  so  ?' 

"  And  then  she  goes  on  as  cool  as  if  nothin'  had  happened,  but 
caste  round  fyv  a  chance  to  let  go  and  laugh  out.     So  she  says  — 

"  *  IVay,  JMr.  Slick,  do  tell  me  what  sort  of  folks  the  Bluenoses 
are.  Is  it  true  the  weather  is  so  cold  there,  that  their  noses  are  blue 
all  winter  y  Bluenoses  i'  what  a  funny  name  !' 
'  "  That's  the  chance  she  was  looking  for,  and  then  she  indulges  in 
a  laugh  so  hearty,  so  clear,  so  loud  and  so  merry,  you'd  think  her 
heart  was  so  ftill  of  joy,  it  required  that  safety-valve  to  keep  it  from 
bustin'. 

.  "  Oh  !  I'd  rather  see  a  man  played  than  a  salmon  anytime,  and  if 
v'omeu  are  bad-used  sometimes,  and  can't  help  themselves  in  a  "ren- 
eral  way,  I  guess  they  are  more  than  a  match  for  the  men  in  the 
long  run.  liut  I  was  going  to  tell  you  about  the  seals  down  Sable 
Island.  They  come  ashore  there  eveij  now  and  agin  to  dry  their 
jackets,  blow  olf  steam,  and  have  a  game  of  romps ;  and  what  do 
you  think  them  roguish,  coquettish,  tormentin'  imps  of  she  ones  do  ? 
Why,  they  just  turn  to  and  drive  all  the  old  bulVors,  fathers,  hus- 
bands, wrinkled  bachelors,  and  guardian  uncles,  further  inland,  and 
there  they  make  them  stay  by  themselves,  while  they  atid  the  young 
gentlemen,  beaux  seals  ogle,  and  flirt,  and  romp  about  like  anything 
close  to  the  water,  where  they  can  give  them  the  dodge  if  they  got 
obstreperous.  It  would  make  you  die  a  larfin,  if  you  was  to  see  how 
sulky  the  old  fellers  look,  a-wipin'  their  ugly  mugs  with  their  paws, 
showing  their  teeth,  at  least  what  is  left  of  them,  and  gruntiu*  aud 
growlin'  like  politicians  kicked  out  of  office.  I  believe,  in  my  soul, 
they  put  them  there  a-purpose  to  get  rid  of  them  altogether ;  for 
when  the  hunters  come,  they  rush  right  iu  between  them  young 
as.scmbly-meu  and  them  old  senators,  and  attack  the  big  boys  with 


-Mf- 


.<^: 


?.v 


*  II 


CHAT    IN     A    CALM. 


146 '1 


it 


great  heavy-loaded  Hticks,  and  tumble  thorn  over  quick  stick,  and 
thou  the  young  ones  just  take  a  dive  for  it,  and  enjoy  the  joke  in 
safety. 

"  Perhaps  all  natur  can't  show  such  a  soft,  lovely,  liquid  eye  as  a 
young  lady  seal.  It  seems  as  if  flirtin',  coquettin',  oglin',  rompin', 
and  larkin',  was  just  what  this  was  made  for.  Yes,  yes,  natur 
balances  all  things  admirably,  and  has  put  the  sexes  and  every  indi- 
vidual of  each  on  a  par.  Them  that  have  more  than  their  share  of 
one  thin«/,  commonly  have  less  of  another.  Where  there  is  great 
strength,  there  aint  apt  to  he  much  gumption.  A  handsome  man  in 
a  (jineral  loay  aint  much  of  a  man.*  A  beautiful  hird  seldom 
sings.  Them  that  has  genius  have  no  common  sense.  A  feller  with 
one  idea  grows  richf  while  he  loho  calls  him  a  fool  dies  poor.  The 
world  is  like  a  halccd-mcat  pic :  the  ttp2)cr  crust  is  rich,  dry,  and 
pvffy  ;  die  lower  crust  is  lieavy,  doughy,  and  underdone.  Them,iddlc 
is  not  had  generally,  hut  the  smallest  part  of  all  is  that  which  fa- 
vours the  whole." 

"Well,  that  are  a  fact,"  said  the  Pilot;  "at  least,  that's  my 
logic." 

"  Now,  Squire,  I  am  going  to  give  you  my  ideas  of  the  feminine 
gender  in  general.  I  flatter  myself  I  know  somethin'  about  them. 
As  usual,  I  suppose  you  will  say  '  You  do  flatter  yourself;  it's  a  bit 
of  your  Yankee  brag.'  Well,  I  am  a  modest  man,  as  I  always  say, 
when  I  know  what  I  am  a-talkin'  about  j  and  if  I  am  wrong,  per- 
haps you  will  set  me  right.  Now,  I  do  say,  I  know  somethin'  of 
women.  I  aint  a  scientific  man.  I  warn't  brought  up  to  it ;  and 
you  never  heard  me  talk  professor-like ;  but  I  have  studied  the  great 
book  of  human  natur,  and  have  got  it  at  my  fingers'  ends,  as  dear 
old  minister  had  his  bible.  I  can  quote  chapter  and  varso  for  all  I  • 
say.  I  read  this  book  continually;  it's  my  delight:  and  I  won't 
turn  my  back  on  any  one,  when  he  talks  of  that.  I  haint  travelled 
for  notliin',  I  haint  listened  for  nothin',  I  haint  used  a  magnifyin' 
glass  for  nothin',  and  I  haint  meditated  for  nothin'.  Now,  females 
i  divide  into  three  classes :  first,  petticoat  angels ;  second,  women ; 
aud  third,  devils.  Petticoat  angels  there  arc,  beyond  all  doubt,  the 
most  exalted,  the  most  pure,  the  most  pious,  the  most  lovin',  the 
most  devoted ;  and  these  angels  arc  in  low  degree  as  well  as  high ; 
they  aint  confined  to  no  station  —  prizes  that  clockmakers  as  well  as 
piiuccs  may  draw.  Is  that  Yankee  brag?  Well,  then,  there  is 
women.  Well,  women  commonly  are  critters  of  a  mixed  character, 
in  gineral  more,  good  than  bad  about  'cm,  by  a  long  chalk  (for  men 
don't  do  'em  justice  in  talkin'  of  'em),  but  spoiled  like  tilleys  in 

*  That  a  pretty  man  has  seklom  much  to  recommend  hira  beyond  his  good 
looks,  was  a  favourite  nuixira  of  Martial.  Ou  one  occasion  ho  calls  him  a 
stouy  affair  —  "Res  pctricosa  est  bellus  bcllus  homo;"  and  on  another,  a 
weak  man — "Qui  bellus  homo  est,  Cotta,  pusillus  homo  est,"  '•-'■'.       '    '• 

13 


'«! 


S.I    A 


J^.^. 


*v-H 


146 


CHAT    IN    A     CALM, 


r-t 


♦, 


■.:  A- 


II  I-- 


traiQiQ\  The  mouth  is  hard  from  being  broke  with  too  small  a  bit, 
1?  their  temper  ruined  by  being  punished  when  they  don't  desarve 
TO  o:-'  ontvue  by  being  put  to  work  they  can't  stand^  or  aint  fitted  by 
natur  for.  llierc  never  loas  a  good  husband  that  loarn't  a  <jood 
horseman f  for  the  natur  of  the  critters  is  just  alike.  Yott  must  be 
gentle,  kind,  and  patient,  but  you  must  be  firm,  and  when  there,  is  a 
fight  for  mastery,  just  show  'em  it's  better  not  to  act  foolish.  Unless 
a  critter  is  too  old,  and  too  headstrong,  it's  a  man's  own  fault  if  he 
can't  manage  to  make  'em  travel  the  road  pleasantly.  Is  there  any 
Yankee  brag  in  that '/ 

'^  Well,  then,  there  arc  the  devils.  Well,  some  kick;  don't  put 
'em  in  harness  agin,  that's  all;  they  are  apt  to  cut  their  little  pas- 
terns, and  hurt  your  little  gig.  Some  stop,  and  wou't  go.  Treat 
'em  as  I  did  a  boss  once  who  wouldn't  draw  up  hill.  I  set  off  from 
Slickville  once  with  a  regular  devil  to  put  her  through  her  facin's, 
at  three  o'clock  in  the  mornin',  and  took  books,  and  cigars,  and  my 
dinner  with  inc,  to  bo  ready  for  Enaction,  as  it  was  fine  weather. 

"Well,  two  miles  from  hum  was  a  high  hill,  and  as  usual  my 
boss  stopped  short,  lay  back  in  the  breechin,  and  wouldn't  budge  an 
inch.  She  thought  she  was  a-goin'  to  have  a  regular-built  frolic, 
and  I  intended  she  should.  She  whisked  her  tail,  laid  back  her 
ears,  and  looked  wicked,  a-thinliin'  the  more  you  wallop  me,  the 
more  I  won't  go ;  and  I'll  upset  you,  and  break  a  shaft  if  I  can ; 
but  she  didn't  know  what  was  in  store  for  her. 

" 'Don't  you  hope  you  may  get  the  chance ?'  sais  I.  -> 

"  So  I  threw  down  the  reins,  lit  my  cigar,  and  began  to  read,  and 
took  no  more  notice  of  her  than  if  she  was  in  the  stable.  When 
twelve  o'clock  came,  she  looked  round  as  much  as  to  say,  if  you  aint 
a-goin'  to  fight,  will  you  make  friends,  old  boy  ?  We]!,  I  took  no 
notice,  as  much  as  to  say,  go  to  the  devil;  eat  my  dinner,  and  I 
turned  to  again,  and  began  to  read.  Well,  as  the  sun  was  goin' 
down,  she  began  to  get  dreadful  oneasy  and  fidgetty,  and  to  put  one 
foot  before  the  other,  but  I  stopped  her,  and  called  out, '  whoh  !'  At 
last  she  got  very  impatient,  but  I  held  on  till  she  should  take  the 
word  from  me.  Finally,  I  took  up  the  reins,  gave  her  a  lick  of  the 
whip,  and  away  she  went  up  the  hill,  as  if  she  smelt  oats  at  the  top 
of  it;  and  to  show  her  what  a  fool  she  was,  I  drove  her  twenty 
miles  right  straight  on  cend  afore  I  hauled  up.  She  never  baulked 
at  a  hill  again. 

"Well,  this  is  more  trouble  than  they  ave  worth  amost;  another 
time,  but  we  won't  foller  it  up ;  it's  too  long  a  story  to  illustrate  in 
that  way.  Some  want  to  race  oif.  Well,  a  boss  that  has  onct  run 
away  in  harness,  will  always  do  it  again  when  it  gets  a  chance — shp 
the  bridle  over  their  head,  and  let  them  go  to  old  scratch ;  they  aint 
worth  follering.  Is  that  Yankee  brag  ?  Well,  perhaps,  it  is.  Give 
mo  your  Blue-nose  brag  now.     I  say,  petticoat  angels,  women,  and 


*•    ■', 


-vf 


THE    PABLE     ISLAND    GHOST. 


147 


devils.  Now  what  is  your  division  ?  You  are  a  Collego  man,  and 
I  aint;  you  are  a  province  man,  and  I  am  a  man  of  the  world, 
whii-'li,  tlio'  it  aiut  quite  as  big  as  Nova  Scotia,  is  big  enough  for  the 
likes  of  me.  I  know  your  Halifax  notions.  You  will  say  high  and 
low,  genteel  or  vulgar,  rich  or  poor.  You  are  wrong,  Squire,  a 
woman  maybe  high  and  vulgar,  and  there  may  be  a  person  not  quite 
so  common,  but  far  above  her,  and  worth  a  thousand  such  cattle, 
called  a  '  poor  lady.'  If  she  is  an  angel — and  I  maintain  there  are 
such — do- as  is  writ  in  the  marriage-sarvice,  'with  ray  body  I  theo 
worship.'  If  she  is  a  woman,  say,  '  with  this  caveson  and  halter  I 
thee  break.'*  If  she  is  a  devil,  lead  her  to  the  door,  take  the  bit  out 
out  of  her  mouth,  and  say,  '  I'll  make  a  fair  division  of  the  house 
with  yon;  I'll  take  the  inside,  and  do  you  take  the  outside, -now  cut 
and  run,  and  be  hanged  to  you.'  Now,  Squire,  as  Eldad  says,  that's 
my  logic  at  any  rate." 


■  ■^^^^■' 


.i  •>i^- 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


I  -: 


THE    SABLE    ISLAND    GHOST. 


"Talking  of  the  Isle  of  Sable,"  said  Cutler,  *'did  you  ever 
land  there?  I  should  like  amazin'ly  to  visit  it.  I  have  seen  it  .in 
the  distance,  but  never  could  spare  time  to  go  on  shore.  What  an 
interesting  place  it  must  be,  from  the  melancholy  accidents  that  have 
occurred  there." 

''  Yes,"  said  I,  "  I  have  been  there,  and  it's  just  what«you  say, 
filled  with  solemncoly  interest.  The  cause  and  occasion  of  my  goin' 
there  was  rather  a  droll  story.  Onct  when  I  was  to  Halifax,  the 
captain  of  the  cutter  said  to  me  : 

"'Mr.  Slick,'  said  he,  'I'm  off  to  Sable  Island.  What  do  you 
say  to  takin'  a  trip  down  there  ?  We  are  to  have  a  wild-hoss  chase, 
and  that's  great  sport.     Come,  what  do  you  say  ?' 

"'Well,'  sais  I,  'I'm  most  afeerd  to  go."  '  «■  ■-^*-""' 

" '  Afeerd  !'  said  he,  '  I  thought  you  was  afeerd  of  nothin  ?  We 
always  go  to  the  leeward  side  of  the  island,  and  we  will  whisk  you 
thro'  the  surf,  without  so  much  as  sprinklin'  of  your  jacket.' 

" '  Oh,'  sais  I,  '  it  aint  that.  I  am  not  afee"d  of  surfs  or  breakers, 
or  anything  of  that  kind.  A  man  like  me  that  has  landed  at  Cal- 
cutta needn't  fear  anything.  I  rather  guess  I  could  teach  3  ^u  a 
dodge  or  two  about  surf  ypu  aint  up  to,  tho'  you  do  go  there  so 
of»  n.' 

^' Well/  sais  he,  'what  are  you  afeerd  on  then  V  and  I  saw  him 


.>«■  r  . 


%■ 


148 


THE    SABLE    ISLAND    GHOST. 


iil  *->. 


give  a  wink  to  ono  of  the  cominissioncrs,  as  much  as  to  say,  '  Let  ua 
rig  him. 

a  i  Why/  sals  1,  *  captiu,  our  fishermen  don't  mind  the  treaty  a  bit 
more  than  a  governor's  proclamation,  and  just  fish  where  they  please, 
and  trade  in  any  harbour  they  like,  and  now  and  then  you  nab  one 
of  them  for  it.  Now  I  wouldn't  like  to  bo  on  board  of  you,  when 
you  tried  to  seize  a  vessel  under  our  Everlastin'  flag.  It  wouldn't 
look  pretty,  nor  sound  pretty.  I  should  have  to  jump  on  board  of  our 
craft,  and  turn  to  and  capture  the  cutter,  take  her  up  to  Bostin'  and  get 
her  condemned,  and  that  wouldn't  convene.  If  you  succeeded,  and 
me  in  your  company,  I  couldn't  return  home;  and  if  I  was  to  assist 
my  brother  Jonathans,  I  couldn't  return  here ;  and,  besides,  I  like 
to  let  every  feller  grind  his  own  axe.  If  it  warn't  for  that,  it's  just 
the  thing  I  do  like.' 

" '  Well,*  said  he,  *  don't  be  skeer'd ;  I  go  straight  there  and  back. 
I  aint  on  a  cruise,  and  Sable  Island  don't  want  cutters  to  frighten 
away  intruders.  It's  dangerous  enough  of  itself  to  keep  folks  off, 
who  know  what's  what.  I'll  tell  you  what,  if  ever  you  saw  that 
are  island  when  the  sea  was  wrathy,  and  heard  the  roar  of  tho 
breakers  on  the  outer  bar,  one  sheet  of  foam  twenty-five  miles  long, 
stretching  away  up  into  the  air  like  a  snow-wreath  in  a  whirlwind, 
you'd  think  you  seed  old  Neptune's  head  o'  white  hair,  and  whiskers, 
and  heard  him  call  up  all  hands  on  deck  to  shorten  sail.  The  island, 
which  is  a  long  narrow  sand-strip,  when  it's  lashed  by  tho  mountain 
waves,  trembles  agin,  as  if  it  had  the  ague;  and  you  can't  help 
thinkin',  the  fust  time  you  feel  it,  that  the  sand  will  give  to  thos» 
everlastin'  blows,  separate,  and  be  swept  away  to  leeward.  The  fust 
night  I  spent  there  in  a  gale,  I  felt  a  deuced  sight  more  streaked 
than  ever  I  did  on  board  ship  in  a  hurricane.' 

" '  Yes,'  said  I,  fancyin'  he  was  a  tryin'  the  temper  of  my  narves, 
'  it  must  have  been  grand.' 

"The  fact  is,  I  Udn't  jist  altogether  like  tho  look  of  his  face, 
when  I  said  I  was  afeerd  to  go,  nor  his  sly  wink  nothcr;  they 
seemed  as  if  they  kinder  meant  he  thought  I  was  cowardly ;  and 
then  I  didn't  like  all  that  bunkum  about  old  Neptune,  and  the  ter- 
rors of  the  storm,  and  so  on ;  it  sounded  braggy ;  so  I  thought  I'd 
just  clap  on  all  steam,  and  go  ahead  of  him,  for  whoever  gets  to 
windward  of  me  had  better  try  it  on  a  river,  or  a  harbour  in  a  sloop- 
rigged  clipper,  have  his  mainsail  cut  as  flat  as  a  board,  luflf  all  be 
can,  hold  on  to  all  he  gets,  and  mind  his  weather  eye.  I  don't  cal- 
culate in  a  gineral  way  to  have  the  wind  taken  out  of  my  sails,  '  So, 
sais  I  (and  in  them  days  I  was  a  pretty  extravagant  feller  to  talk 
when  1  felt  dandery,  I  tell  you),  '  so,'  sais  I, '  I  hope  there  will  be  a 
ripper  there,  a  regular  ring-tailed  roarer,  the  night  I  land  on  the 
island.  Then  if  a  feller  was  to  jump  bare-backed  on  his  imagina- 
tion, throw  away  the  reins,  dig  in  the  spurs — ' 


■i'*' 


THE    SABLE    ISLAND     GHOST. 


149 


f  my  narves, 


"'You  needn't  do  that/  said  ho;  'thoro  are  three  hundred  wild 
bosses  there ;  catch  one  o'  them  in  the  storm,  aud  race  off,  if  you 
have  a  faiijy  for  that  sort  o'  scuddiu'  afore  the  wind  with  bare  poles.' 

"  <  Exactly,'  sais  I,  '  I'm  your  man.  liaise  the  wind  till  it  blows 
a  tornado,  catch  mo  a  hoss,  and  start  mo  off  at  midnight,  wind 
howlin',  breakers  roarin',  thunder  crashin',  lightnin'  flashin',  and 
me  a  whoopin'  and  yellin'  like  an  ludgian  devil,  and  if  there  is  any 
echo,  raise  sounds  like  distant  voices  of  unburicd  thousands  that  lie 
hid  in  those  shallows ;  it  would  wake  the  dead,  make  the  wracks 
start  once  more  from  their  sandy  beds,  and  sink  again  with  a  kcr- 
wallup,  like  crocodiles  jumpin'  in  the  river,  or  a  steamer  goin'  down 
squcnsh.  Here's  at  you,  old  boy;  I'm  your  man.  Here's  for  a 
ghost-rider's  gallop  over  skulls,  skeletons,  and  skippers ;  a  midnight 
lark  to  scare  the  wild  bosses,  scatter  the  rabbits  and  rats,  and  make 
the  owls  stare.  I'll  outrun  you,  outscrcech  you,  and  outj'ell  you,  for 
a  ten  mile  heat  for  five  hundred  dollars.  Come,  what  do  you  say  to 
that  stump  ?  are  you  brought  to  a  hack  ?' 

" '  I  wouldn't  run  a  race  of  a  mile,'  said  he, '  at  midnight,  on  that 
onconsecrated  grave-yard,  for  a  thousand  pounds.  I  am  a  sailor,  and 
I  respect  the  dead.' 

"  Oh,  ho  !  sais  I  to  myself,  I  have  cooled  you,  have  I?  Who  is 
afeerd  now  ? 

'' '  And  let  me  tell  you,  too,'  said  he,  'it's  a  land  of  spirits/       .»; 

"  The  fact  was,  he  was  superstitious. 

»' '  I  could  tell  you  some  ghoi^t  stories  that  I  know  to  be  true,  that 
would  make  your  hair  stand  on  eend.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Dr. 
Copeland's  lady  that  appeared  to  the  brave  Captain  Torrens,  of  the 
29th  llegiment  of  the  British  army,  or  the  Paris  gentleman,  that 
appears  always  to  wracked  Frenchmen,  and  complains  of  Henry  the 
Fourth  of  France,  for  takin'  his  wife  and  banishin'  him  there  with 
a  lot  of  convicts,  so  long  ago  as  1598  ?  or  the  old  regicide  that  used 
it  as  a  hidin'-place,  and  lived  and  died  there  !*  and  on  the  29th  of  May. 
when  Charles  the  First  was  beheaded,  marches  about  with  a  broad- 
brimmed  hat  on,  carries  a  drawn  sword,  and  sings  psalm,*  through 
his  nose  so  loud  you  can  hear  him  above  the  storm  ?" 

"  *  No,'  sais  I,  '  I  should  like  to  seo  that  man  amazin'ly.  Our 
country  was  settled  by  Puritans,  and  I  would  give  anything  to  know 
what  sort  of  critters  they  were  arter  all,  and  ask  some  questions  to 
clear  up  history.  Oh  !  time  it  so  as  to  be  there  on  the  29th.  If  I 
could  only  see  that  sainted  sinner,  talk  to  him,  get  his  name,  "see  his 
dress,  and  hear  his  lingo,  I'd  make  a  fortin'  out  of  the  critter." 

" '  Well,  well,'  said  he,  "  come  with  me,  and  I  will  tell  you  all 
these  stories  to  pass  time.' 

" '  Done  !'  sais  I,  I'm  your  man.     I'd  rather  raise  that  old  regi- 
cide than  raise  a  treasure  ship.     Hurrah  for  Sable  Island  !'    Thinks 
13* 


"^ 


'& 


J) 


If 


r 


160 


TIIK    »ADLE    ISLAND    GHOST. 


I:  01(1  boy,  who  is  ufocrd  now?  I  warn't  born  in  the  woods  to  Do 
Beared  by  an  owl," 

,  "  J^Ixrtctly,"  Huid  Mr.  Eldad,  'who  Is  afoerd?  A  man  has  but  ^jno 
life,  and  that  ho  must  h)yo  Homo  day  or  anothor,  any  way  ho  can  fix 
it,  and  ho  .don't  know  how  soon.  ITo  i.s  a  fool  to  bo  a  coward,  thi-ro- 
foro,  bccauso  the  timo  will  fomo  whou  ho  can't  help  himself.  Dio 
ho  must.  Now  if  a  feller  had  nine  lives  like  a  eat,  they  would  bo 
worth  takin'  caro  of,  because,  in  a  general  way,  he'd  have  a  good 
stock  left,  and  gracious  knows  how  long  ho  might  live,  lie  could 
afford  to  bo  timid  liI;o  them,  and  it  would  bo  worth  his  while,  too, 
to  take  caro  of  his  lives.     At  least,  that's  my  logic." 

"  I  can't  say  much  Iw  the  loij;ic ;"  sais  I ;  "  but  your  first  idea  of 
dyin'  game  aint  a  bad  one,  and  1  won't  nonconcur  you. 

"  Well  off  wo  went,  and  a  rael  pleasant  time  wo  had  of  it,  too. 
Oh  I  what  fun  we  had  a  chasin'  of  them  wild  bosses  !  There  Was  a 
herd  of  three  hundred  of  them,  and  wo  caught  a  lot  of  them  for  tho 
Halifax  market,  for  they  overstock  the  island  now  and  then,  and 
have  to  be  thinned  off'.  You  have  no  idea  what  nice  eatiu'  wild  hoss- 
nieat  is.  It  was  the  fust  time  I  ever  tasted  any,  T  felt  kinder  skit- 
tish at  fust,  but  I  soon  got  used  to  it.  It  is  somethin'  between  veal 
and  beef     As  for  wild  fowl,  there  is  no  ecnd  to  them  there." 

"  Did  you  see  a  st(U"m  there '/"  said  Cutler. 

"I  guess  I  did,"  sais  Ij  "and  that's  the  reason  I  staid  there  so 
long,  for  tho  cap  tin  had  to  get  on  board  quick  step,  up  anchor,  and 
off  till  it  was  over.  It  was  splendid,  you  may  depend — awful,  per- 
haps, is  tho  proper  word.  You  fancy  you  hear  drowning  men's 
voices  in  it,  while  the  screams  of  birds  scuddin'  home  for  shelter 
aint  onliko  those  of  human  bein's." 

"  What  sort  of  a  lookin'  place  is  it  ?"  said  he  ?" 

"As  desolate,  wild,  and  lonely  a  place,"  sais  I,  "  as  ever  you  see. 
Its  sand,  just  the  colour  of  the  water,  and  can't  be  seen  at  no  great 
distance  on  that  account.  In  the  hollows  scooped  out  by  the  wind 
arc  whortleberry  and  cranberry  bushes,  in  shallower  places  is  bent 
grass,  and  on  the  shores  wild  peas ;  but  there  aint  a  tree  or  a  shrub 
on  the  whole  island.  The  sand  drifts  in  a  gale  like  snow,  and  blows 
up  into  high  cones.  These  dance  about  sometimes,  and  change 
places ;  and  when  they  do,  they  oncover  dead  bodies  of  poor  critters 
that  have  boon  overtaken  there,  the  Lord  knows  when  or  how.  There 
is  a  large  lake  in  it  fifteen  miles  long." 

"Why  what  is  the  extent  of  the  island?"  said  Cutler. 

"About  thirty  miles,"  sais  I;  "and  from  one  and  a  half  to  two 
wide.  It  has  the  sh-^pe  of  a  bow,  and  tapers  off  at  both  ends.  After 
the  storm,  the  supcrintcndout  and  I  rode  all  round  it.  When  we 
come  to  the  north  end  of  the  lake,  we  got  off,  and  lastened  our  nags 
to  a  sort  of  pound,  made  of  ship  timber  and  drift  stuff;  that  they 
drive  wild  bosses  into  when  they  want  to  catch  them.  :..,  ,  ■ 


TIIK    UAULK    ISLAND    Gil  OUT. 


161 


"  '  Now,'  said  .he,  '  sit  down  hero,  Mr.  Slick,  and  I'll  toll  you  one 
of  the  strangest  stories  you  ever  heard.  In  the  year  1802,  tho  ship 
I'rincess  Amelia  was  v/rackcd  off  here,  having  tho  furniture  of  tho 
Queen's  fatlior,  Princo  Edward,  on  hoard,  and  a  number  of  rccruiti, 
Boilgcr  officers  and  their  wives,  and  women  sarvants.  There  wore  two 
hundred  souls  of  them  altogether,  and  thoy  all  perished.  About 
that  period,  some  piratical  vagabonds  used  to  frequent  there,  for  there 
was  no  regular  establishment  kept  on  the  island  then ;  and  it's  gene- 
rally supposed  somo  of  tho  poor  people  of  that  misfortinato  ship 
reached  the  shore  in  safety,  and  were  nmrdered  by  tho  wrackors  for 
their  property.  Well,  tho  Princo  sends  down  Captain  Torrens  —  of 
the  l2i)th  regiment,  I  think  it  was — from  Halifax,  to  inquire  after  tho 
missin'  ship ;  and,  as  lv-v;k  would  have  it,  ho  was  wracked  too,  and 
pretty  nearly  lost  his  life  in  trying  to  drag  others  through  the  surf, 
ibr  he  was  a  man  that  didn't  know  what  danger  or  fear  cither  was, 
except  by  name.  There  was  but  few  that  could  bo  rescued  before 
tho  vessel  went  to  pieces.  Well,  he  stationed  them  that  survived  at 
oue  eend  of  tho  island,  and  off  he  goes  to  the  other  so  as  to  ext*  nd 
Lis  look-out  for  aid  as  far  as  ho  could,  but  first  they  had  to  bur}  the 
dead  th  *  floated  from  tho  troop-ship,  and  gather  up  such  parts  of 
the  P  's  effects  as  came  ashore,  and  were  worth  saving.  It  was 
au  aw  ^ik,  and  took  them  a  long  time,  for  the  grave  was  as  largo 
as  a  cellar  amost.  There  they  are,  just  where  that  long  bent  grass 
grows.  Having  done  this,  and  findin'  fire-arms  in  tho  Government 
slielter-hut,  oft"  ho  goes  alone  to  the  other  eend  of  the  island.  One 
day,  having  made  tho  circuit  of  tho  lower  half  here,  ho  returned 
about  dusk  to  whore  wo  now  are. 

" '  Where  you  see  that  little  hillock,  there  was  a  small  hut  in  those 
days,  that  had  fir 3 works  in  it,  and  some  food,  and  chairs,  and  tables, 
that  had  been  saved  out  of  wracks,  which  were  placed  there  for  dis- 
tressed people ;  and  there  were  printed  instructions  in  ij'rench  and 
English,  telling  them  what  to  do  to  keep  themselves  alive  till  they 
could  bo  taken  off.  Well,  ho  made  up  a  fire,  hauled  down  some  hay 
out  of  tho  loft,  and  made  up  a  bed  in  one  corner,  and  went  out  to 
take  a  walk  along  by  the  side  of  the  lako,  afore  he  turned  in.  As  he 
returned,  he  was  surprised  to  see  his  dog  standin*  at  tho  door,  lookin' 
awfully  skeered,  growlin',  barkin',  and  yelpin'  like  mad.  The  first 
thing  he  saw  inside  was  a  lady  sittin'  on  one  side  of  the  fire,  with 
long  drippin'  hair  hangin'  over  her  shoulders,  her  face  as  pale  aa 
death,  and  havin'  nothin'  on  but  a  loose  soiled  white  dress,  that  was 
as  wet  as  if  she  had  just  come  out  of  the  sea,  and  had  sand  stickin' 
to  it,  as  if  she  had  been  rolled  over  and  over  on  the  breakers.  Good 
Heavens,  Madam,  said  he,  who  are  you,  and  where  did  you  come 
from? 

" '  But  she  didn't  speak  to  him,  and  only  held  up  her  hand  before 
her,  and  ho  saw  one  of  the  forefingers  was  cut  off,  and  was  still  blcedin' 


jiJjiKiJ.-t  .<„..• 


«^'' 


168  Tun  BAinvti  rsiiANt)  oiiowt.     i  .     , 

WoU,  l»o  turnod  roMiul  uml  (»iumu)«I  a  mm  thiit  ho  luul  piokod  up  in 
i,\h\  inoniiu'  iVom  tho  dril'l  nlnp,  in  which  wus  iiiulrrinlM  tor  hftudn^'m' 
tlu<  wouml,  MUil  wiiM  goiu'  (o  oIliM'  ht'i'  smiM*  ns,sis(iui«M>,  whoii  Mh(^  yohv 
m\  :«U(lilon,  ,<di))|UMl  ptiMt  him,  mid  Nvcitt  owl  oi'  tiu)  door  and  wtilkml 
'V»iil',  \w  roUo\V(*il  and  raUod  tit  h(U',  and  brggod  henv !,(»  stop ; 
slio  \v»»nt,  j'ud  (hinkin'  who  was  out.  of  Itor  ndnd,  ho  rnn  al'lor 


oIf.     W 
but  on 


hov,  mul  th  >  ImkIoi"  ho  \v(>nt,  tho  HwitYor  nho  raood,  till  sljo  oaiuo  to 
tlio  luko,  and  dovo  rij.i;ht  into  it  hoad  fonMuost. 

**  *  WoU,  l»o  Hlood  MMuo  (iiuo  th<»ro  oonsidorin*  and  pondorin'  ovoi* 
>vhat  had  luvpiuMunl,  and  at  luMt  ho  HtndhMJ  hack,  and  nat  down  by 
tht»  liro  a  p;oo«l  doal  pn/,/U'd.  Artoi'  wtiidyin'  it  out  lor  ,s  »ino  liniu, 
Hais  ho:  Thoro  oan't  bo  no  niislako  hero.  'J'hat  in  not  a  jj;hv>Mt,  nor  a 
donionttul  ptM';  m,  but  a  nninlni'od  wojuan.  If  I  <vitoh  a  v /aokor 
horo,  whil(»  I  am  u.\  tho  ishmd,  I'll  a.sk  tio  »pu'stionH,  Imt  I'll  nhoot 
him  as  I  wiudd  a  wolf.  I'oor  thiu^j,  h\h\  w.-tntn  mo  to  toll  hor  tViondM 
1  havo  t*oou  hor,  antl  (hat  slu>  is  aotilly  doad  ;  but  who  is  sho,  and 
who  nro  hi>r  folks i*  !hit  tho  rn\j;or,  said  ho,  that  is  vory  odd.  I 
HUpposi*  in  putting  up  hor  hatul  to  savo  hor  lifo,  it  vvas  out  oil',  (lon- 
fouiid  tho  villain,  I  wish  1  oould  onoo  f^ot  uiy  oyos  on  hin»,  ai»d  ho 
lookod  at  tlu^^prinuu'  of  his  gun,  and  wont  out  and  kncoKul  down, 
and  takin'  t>IV  Ids  hat  held  his  hoail  oloso  to  tho  ground,  to  soo  if  any- 
body was  ino\iu'  botwottn  hi'u  and  tho  horizon;  an<l  liu'du'  thoro 
Avaru't,  and  foolin.'  tinnl,  for  ho  had  boon  on  his  foi^t  all  day,  ho  rv 
tuvnod  to  tho  hut  again,  nud  who  should  bo  thoro  but  tho  Bolf-sanio 
lady,  in  tho  solf-sau)o  plaoo. 

"mNow,  said  ho  to  hin»s«df,  don't  go  too  noar  hor,  it*M  ovidontly 
onploasant  to  hor ;  but  sho  iuis  "•/.•.iki  oomin\u\ioatiou  to  nudco.  Wolf, 
>Yhafc  ilo  you  ihiuk,  it's  a  positive  fart,  sho  hold  up  tho  mutilatod 
baud  again.  Ilo  j)a(isod  sonio  tiuu>  aforo  ho  spoko,  and  took  a  good 
look  at  hor,  to  bo  suro  tlu>ro  was  lu)  nnstako,  and  to  bo  ablo  to  idou- 
tify  hi>r  aftorwunls,  if  nooossary. 

*' '  Why,  sai;i  ho,  afh'r  soruti»ii/.in*  of  hor  (for  1»q  was  a  nmu  was 
tho  bravo  (^ijitaiu  Torrous,  that  <ho  dovil  himsolf  oouldn't  daunt\ 
why,  sius  ho,  it  aint  possible  !  Why,  Mrs.  Oopoland,  is  that  your' 
f-u*  ho  know  hor  as  woU  as  I  know  you.  Sho  was  tho  wifo  of  Dr. 
Copobuul,  of  tho  7th  roginu'nt,  and  was  woll  Jcnow^n  at  Halifax,  and 
bolovcd  by  all  who  kuowcd  hor.  Sho  just  bowed  hor  hoad,  ami  then 
hold  up  hor  hand,  and  showed  tlu>  bloody  stump  of  hor  linger. 

"  '  1  havo  it,  sais  he,  uun"derc<l  for  tho  sake  of  your  ring,  —  slio 
bowed  hor  hoad.  W^dl,  sais  ho,  I'll  traok  tlio  villain  out,  till  ho  is 
shot  or  hau^.ed.  "Woll,  sho  looked  sad,  and  luado  no  sign.  Well, 
sais  ho,  I'll  loavo  uo  stono  uuturnoil  to  rocover  that  ring,  and  lostoro 
it  to  your  family. 

"  '  ^^^dl,  she  smiled,  bowed  hvr  head,  and  rose  tip  and  waved  her 
hand  to  him  to  stand  out  of  tho  way,. and  ho  did,  and  sho  slipped  by 
him,  uud  thou  turned  and  hold'  up  both  hauda,  as  if  sho  was  pushiu' 


TIIM    HAIlliM    I  H  LAN  I)    (MIOHT. 


168 


Notno  011H  bndir,  nnd  rotnmtod  ihnt  way,  mrikin*  Ihn  flntttn  motlnn  j  nnd 
ho  took  tiiu  hint,  cihut  <o  Uio  door,  mul  not  dowa  iu  dtugoeit  tliiu  uuri- 
ourt  HOi'no. 

*•  <  Now  tlm*,  Htory  in  n  iiowitivo  i'twl,'  Mm  (ho  Hmtorintondont. 
'TlioJU  is  i\u)  \vn\  luunoM.  ^\y  Wdlw.v  ht'iird  'I'orninH  toll  it  won'  for 
word,  riH  !  toll  it  to  you;  und  thnro  in  ponj^lo  now  living  to  Flalii'ax, 
who  know  him  woll,  lor  ho  was  a  groat  favorito  with  ovorybody. 
,lunt  aftor  that,  tlu«ro  was  an  awl'iil  Ntorni,  and  anothor  wrack,  and 
ho  waH  mainly  (ho  moans  ol'  Having  tho  pooplo  at  the  rink  of  hirt  own 
lifo.  His  namo  is  i.u  tho  ohart  as  tho  '  liravo  Oaptain  TorronH,*  tho 
IhuiHU  ol'  AsN(nnl)ly  votod  him  a  largo  Hum  ol'  irionoy,  and  tho 
Trinoo  tlnaight  ovorything  of  him.  I  daro  nay  tho  Diichobrt  of  Kont 
liHH  often  hoard  tho  story,  and  if  h\m  haint— «'  •  /  A  ^ 

'"  Hut  about  tho  ring)"  sais  I. 

*' ♦  Oh,  yoN  r  said  lio,  '  that  is  tho  o\n*ioHost  part  of  it.  (japtain 
Torrons  got  hold  of  tho  nanuis  of  thrco  of  tho  most  notod  wraokors, 
and  Hot  out  (,o  track  'cm  to  their  hidin'-pla(50H.  Ono  of  thorn  lived 
to  Salmon  llivor,  jurst  about  as  solitary  and  lonoly  a  place  ns  ho 
could  have  fouutl  (o  (wcapo  obstirvalion.  Whon  tho  (/aptaingot  there, 
(ho  follor  had  gone  away  to  Ijabrador.  Well,  Torrens  soon  knocked 
up  an  aciuiaintaneo  with  tho  family  by  Klayin'  at  tho  house,  and 
iniikiu'  it  his  hoa(l-(|uartors  while  he  wm  fowliu'  and  lishin'  in  tho 
ni>ighbourhood.  Ono  evenin'  he  put  on  a  sphnulid  ring,  which  ho 
brought  down  for  the  ])urpose,  ho  as  to  draw  the  talk  to  tho  subject 
ho  wanted.  The  ehUist  gall  admired  it  greatly;  and  ho  took  it  off, 
and  it  was  handed  round,  and  eoi>\men(od  on.  At  last  ono  t)f  tho 
(liulors  said  she  didn't  think  it  was  half  so  j)retty  as  the  ono  dadjly 
got  -MY  (he  lady's  llngcu'  at  Sable  Island. 

"'  No,  my  dear,  said  the  motluir,  who  got  behind  his  chair  to  tcle- 
l^\\i\^\,  ho  got  it  from  a  Kronchman,  who  picked  it  up  ut  tho  sand 
lliere. 

"  ♦  Oh !  T  boliovo  it  was,  said  tho  girl,  colourin'  up,  and  lookin'  a 
little  confused. 

'"  Well,  at  last  the  ring  was  handed  back,  and  he  put  it  on  his 
linger  again  ;  and  when  ho  was  kinder  prctondin'  to  bo  admiring  it, 
Hiiirt  he,  carelessly : 

"  'Show  mo  your  ring;  if  it  is  as  handsome  as  this  I'll  buy  it  of 
you,  for  I  am  a  great  ving-faneicr ;  but  I  don't  suppose  it  would  go 
on  my  gi'eat  coarso  linger — W(mld  it'/     VVhero  is  it'/ 

"'  It's  at  Halifax,  Sir,  said  she.     The  last  time  daddy  was  thci-o, 
10  left  it  with  a  watehuuikcr  to  sell.     He  gave  him  twenty  shillings 


on  it,  and  told  him  if  it  fetched  more  he  should  have  it. 
'"  Oh,  said  In',  ((uite  une(msarned,  it's  tio  matter. 


M' 


"Oh,  yes!  it  is,  Sir,  said  she,  for  it's  a  most  beautiful  ono;  you 
lad  better  buy  it,  and  sho  described  it  most  minutely. 
'    He  was  quite  satislied ;  and  arter  breakfast  tho  next  mornia' 


"ka^" 


(( < 


■ik.. 


\ 


154 


THE    SABLE  -ISLAND    GHOST 


m 

xr 


«''  i. 


he  started  for  Halifax  as  fast  as  he  could.  Well  the  town  warn't 
then  what  it  is  now.  Two  watchmakers  was  all  that  was  iu  it,  so  a 
search  couldn't  last  very  long  any  how ;  but  in  the  window  of  the 
first  shop  he  went  to  was  the  identical  ring.  Sais  he  to  the  shop- 
man : 

"  '  Friend,  sais  ho,  give  me  the  history  of  that  ring,  as  far  as  you 
know  about  it.  .  ./-  '■"■^ 

"  <  Well,  the  account  was  just  what  he  had  heard  himself,  omittin' 
of  course  all  mention  of  the  linger.     Says  he : 

" '  Give  it  to  me ;  here  are  the  twentj  shillings  advanced ;  and  if 
the  owner  wants  more,  tell  him  to  bring  the  finger  that  wap  cut  off 
to  get  at  it,  and  then  come  to  me.  *^     .  * 

" '  Well,  it  was  identified  at  once  by  the  ladies  of  the  regiment, 
and  some  of  the  doctor's  brother  officers;  and  the  moment  the 
Prince  saw  it,  he  knew  it,  fot  it  was  a  curious  old  family  ring,  and 
the  Captain  sent  it  to  England  to  Mrs.  Copeland's  friends.  Torrens 
was  ordered  home  soon  after  that,  and  there  the  matter  dropt.' 

"  That's  a  strange  story,"  said  the  skipper ;  "  what  do  you  think 
of  it,  Mr.  Slick?" 

"  Why,"  sais  I,  "  it  seems  to  come  very  straight,  and  looks  as  if 
it  was  true  j  and  nothin'  ought  to  be  thought  onpossible  because  it's 
oncommon.  The  main  thing  is  how  a  story  is  vouched,  and  whether 
the  man  who  tells  it  is  credible.  All  depends  on  that.  When  a 
feller  sais  he  saw  an  apparition  he  may  be  deceived ;  his  eyes,,  or 
the  state  of  his  stomach,  operatin'  on  his  vision,  or  his  fancy,  or  per- 
haps his  fears,  may  make  him  think  he  saw  it  when  he  didn't.  But 
if  an  apparition  appears  to  him,  not  in  bed,  when  ho  may  mistake  a 
dream  for  a  reality,  but  when  he  is  wide  awake  and  in  good  health, 
and  gives  him  information,  and  he  acts  on  it,  and  the  information 
turns  out  correct,  why  then  I  think  you  may  believe  him." 

"  Well,'^  sais  Eldad,  "  that  story  is  as  true  as  Gospel,  for  I've 
heard  it  from  Mr.  CoUingwood's  father,  who  was  with  the  Prince  at 
the  time,  and  saw  the  ring  himself;  and  more  than  that,  I  could  tell 
you  the  name  of  the  wracker,  but  I  won't,  for  some  of  his  descend- 
ants are  still  living,  and  are  decent  people.  I  have  seen  the  old 
coon  several  times,  and  the  devil  himself,  with  all  his  arts  and  insine- 
vations,  never  could  coax  him  out  of  the  house  arter  dark.'' 

"Exactly,"  sais  T,  "Eldad,  that's  conscience;  and,  in  my  opinion, 
conscience  is  the  devil.  His  court  is  hardly  a  fair  one,  for  he  fills 
three  offices  at  onct.  He  is  witness,  judge,  and  executioner.  Con- 
science is  a  witness,  and  testifies  agin  a  feller;  it  is  a  judge  too,  and 
knows  the  evidence  is  true,  and  it  is  an  executioner,  and  has  no 
raarc3^  It  don't  punish  a  fcllor  right  off,  and  ha'  done  with  it,  but 
it  keeps  torturin'  poor  sinners  all  the  time.  Depend  upon  it,  many 
and  many  a  night  it  woke  up  that  old  wracker  out  of  a  sound  sleep 
with  a  dig  on  his  ribs,  and  said  :  '  I  say,  old  feller,  how  arc  you  of)' 


>:i 


THE    SABLE    ISLAND    GHOST. 


155 


»wn  warn't 
iu  it,  so  a 

low  of  the 
the  shop- 

far  as  you 

If,  omittin' 

3d ;  and  if 
vaf  cut  off 

I  regiment, 
loment  the 
y  ring,  and 
3.  Torrens 
ropt/ 
)  you  think 

looks  as  if 

because  it's 

,ud  whether 

When  a 

bis  eyes,,  or 

cy,  or  per- 

idn't.    But 

mistake  a 

ood  health, 

nformation 

1,  for  I've 
3  Prince  at 
could  tell 
lis  dcscend- 
n  the  old 
ud  insine- 

* 

ly  opinion, 

tbr  he  fills 

ier.     Con- 

le  too,  and 

]d  has  no 

(ith  it,  but 

it,  many 

lund  sleep 

[•0  you  oir 


for  rings  ?  You  hainte  got  a  spare  finger  to  part  with,  have  you  ? 
for  I  want  one  to  point  at  a  murderer  with,  and  mine's  tired  out.' 
Well,  then  it  kinder  relents,  lets  the  poor  misfortunate  critter  go  to 
sleep  agin ;  and  when  he  begins  to  snore,  gives  a  dyin'  screetch  iu 
his  ear  that  fetches  him  up  :^u  his  feet  in  a  moment,  and  he  rubs  his 
eyes,  half  stupid  with  fright  and  drowsiness,  and  sais :  '  I  wish  to 
Heavens  I  was  out  of  this  cussed  island,'  and  he  lights  his  candle, 
tm'ns  in  again,  and  goes  to  sleep  once  more;  for  ghosts  don't  come 
in  where  there  is  light  in  a  general  way.  Well  he  dreams  (for  con- 
science is  a  dab  at  makin'  fellers  act  tragedies  over  in  their  dreams), 
and  he  dreams  he  is  awful  hungry,  and  come  home  just  in  time  for 
dinner,  and  there  is  a  beautiful  meat-pie  on  the  table  that  smells  so 
nice,  he  actilly  feels  his  mouth  water,  and  he  cuts  the  crust,  puts  the 
spoon  in  it,  and  out  comes  a  long  white  finger  with  a  beautiful  ring 
on  it,  Eldad,  that  is  wus  than  being  hung  —  aint  it  ?  Depend  on 
it.  Pilot,  as  I  said  before,  conscience  is  the  devil."    ^-J  -J 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "it's  wus  than  the  gallus,  if  you  are  quite  sure 
the  same  thing  hante  to  be  gone  over  again  on  dead  man's  land. 
But  Mr.  Slick,''  said  he,  "you  describe  that  so  pccowerful,  you  must 
have  suffered  yourself,  I  guess,  from  conscience." 

"Well,  I  have,"  sais  I.  "  I  won't  deny  it,  for  I  should  tell  a  lie 
if  I  did.  You  know, '  if  we  say  we  have  no  sin  we  deceive  ourselves, 
and  the  truth  is  not  in  us.'  I  do  actilly  dream  sometimes  of  an 
onsound  horse  I  have  put  off  afore  now  on  a  feller,  or  a  critter  thuu 
would  run  aiWay,  or  a  clock  that  wouldn't  go ;  and  I  won't  deny  the 
memory  of  these  things  does  trouble  me  now  and  agin  in  my  iras, 
and  I  wake  up  almost  chokin'  and  laughin'  at  the  thought  of  a 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  said  the  pilot,  "  you  arc  a  droll  man.  Nothin'  seems 
to  make  an  impression  on  you." 

"Don't  it,"  said  I;  and  I  turned  to  Cutler,  for  I  knew  Eldad 
couldn't  take  my  meanin'.  "My  mind  is  like  natur',"  sais  I. 
"  The  dark  shaders  and  deep  lines  are  in  the  right  place,  but  the 
strong  lights  and  bright  sky  are  also  where  they  ought  to  be,  I  hope. 
But  come,  Mr.  Nickerson,"  said  I,  "I  have  told  you  my  ghost 
story,  now  do  you  spin  us  a  yarn  if  you  have  a  rael  dependable  one ; 
if  not,  we  will  talk  of  something  else." 

"Well,"  said  he,  "Pll  tell  you  of  one  that  I  knowed  myself,  for 
I  was  on  board  the  vessel  at  the  time.  I  was  mate  oncet  of  a  brig 
of  Colonel  Freeman's,  of  Liverpool,  Nova  Scotia,  that  was  commanded 
by  Captain  James  Taylor,  for  I'll  give  you  the  real  names  of  the  par- 
ties— and  we  had  just  come  back  from  the  West  Indies.  On  our 
return,  we  arrived  off  the  entrance  of  the  harbour  a  considerable 
piece  arter  daylight-down,  when  the  wind  failed  us,  and  we  dropt 
anchor  there.  It  was  a  most  beautiful  moonlight  night.  I  guess 
you  knew  Gaptin  James  Taylor,  didn't  you  ?" 


mmmm 


■mH 


\ 


15(5 


THE     SABLE    ISLAND     GHOST,   ^t 


\ 


if 


*'  Yes,"  said  I,  "  I  knew  him;  and  a  better  shipmaster,  or  a  better 
man,  never  trod  in  shoe  leather.' -5|-.'^. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "he  would  go  ashore  and  walk  up  to  the  town, 
which  was  about  two  miles  off;  and  he  left  mc  in  charge,  with  orders 
to  get  undef  weigh  as  soon  as  the  night  breeze  sprung  up,-  and  two 
hands  got  into  the  boat,  and  set  him  ashore.  Well,  he  crossed  over 
into  the  main  road,  and  made  for  home.  As  he  neared  Liverpool, 
he  came  opposite  to  old  Mr.  Parker's  farm,  where  a  man  of  the 
name  of  Trots  lived  as  a  tenant.  The  furst  person  he  saw  was  old 
Trots  himself,  who  was  lame,  standing  out  in  front  of  the  door. 
.  "  How  are  you.  Trots  ?"  said  he.  "  Give  me  a  drink  of  water, 
that's  a  good  fellow." 

"Well,  the  old  chap  didn't  answer,  so  he  repeated  it  louder;  but 
the  critter  wouldn't  speak. 

"What  in  natur'  ails  you?"  said  he;  and  went  close  up  to  him, 
and  called  out  again,  at  the  tip  eend  of  his  voice :  "  Give  me  a  glass 
of  water,  old  feller,  will  you  ?" 

"  Trots  stared  him  in  the  face,  and  never  said  a  word,  or  offered 
to  move.  NoWjiiJW  the  Captain  was  in  a  hurry,  and  it  was  gettin' 
late,  he  turns  out  into  the  road  quick,  just  leaving  a  parting  tough 
word  for  the  old  man  to  digest,  and  thought  no  more  about  it.  In 
the  mornin',  he  goes  to  Colonel  Freeman  to  report  the  vessel,  and 
tell  him  about  the  sale  of  his  lumber  and  fish,  and  so  on,  in  the 
West  Indies. 

"  Says  the  Colonel,  '  Jemmy,'  sais  he  (for  he  was  a  great  hand  for 
patronisin'  smart  young  men,  and  a  putting  of  them  forward  in  the 
world),  'did  you  see  anything  of  my  servant  on  the  road  last 
night.' 

"  No  !"  said  he,  '  the  only  man  I  saw  was  old  Trots ;  and  he — * 

"  Pooh !'  said  he,  '  Trots !  why  Trots  has  been  dead  and  buried 
these  three  weeks.' 

"  'Why  how  you  talk !'  said  the  captin ;  and  he  jumps  up  and  tells 
him  the  whole  story. 

"Just  then,  who  should  come  into  the  countin' -house  liit  Captin 
Dewal,  of  Liverpool,  and  said  he : 

"  Colonel,  did  you  hear  about  Trots  ?' 

"  What's  that  ?'  said  Taylor,  in  astonishment,  for  ho  knew  he  had 
told  no  one  the  story. 

" '  Why,'  said  he,  *  Trots  was  at  his  old  house  last  night,  and 
appeared  to  Murphy.' 

"  Murphy  was  another  tenant  who  had  moved  into  the  house  after 
Trot's  death,  and  he  woke  him  up. 

"  Murphy,'  sais  he,  '  in  three  days  you  will  be  where  I  am.' 

"  The  poor  critter  was  as  well  at  the  time  as  I  am  now,  but  sure 
enough,  in  three  days,  ho  was  as  dead  as  a  herrin'.  What  do  you 
think  of  that,  Mr.  Slick  ?     Can  you  account  for  it  ?' 


THE    SABLE    ISLAND    GHOST. 


157 


"  Yes,"  sais  I,  "  as  easy  as  kiss  my  hand.  It  was  a  moonlight 
night.  Now,  as  the  eaptin  knew  Trots  lived  there  when  he  went 
to  the  West  Indies,  it's  nateral  he  should  take  a  shadow  of  a  gate, 
post,  or  somcthin'  or  another  for  him,  and  think  he  actilly  saw  him(. 
That  will  account  for  that  part  of  it.  Now  suppose  Murphy  had 
taken  a  glass  of  grog  extra  that  night,  or  a  pound  of  pork  more  than 
common,  got  the  night-mare,  and  fancied  old  Trots  was  a  sittin  a 
top  of  him,  got  scared  at  the  dream,  and  died  out  of  fright.  That 
will  account  for  t'other  part  of  it.'' 

"You  may  imagine  anything,"  said  Cutler;  "but  accordin'  to 
that  way  of  reasonin',  all  human  testimony  would  be  an  illusion, 
and  no  one  could  ever  be  convicted.     I  believe  that  story  firmly." 

"  So  do  I  believe  it  firmly,  too,"  said  I ;  "  but  he  didn't  ask  me 
if  I  believed  it,  he  asked  me  if  I  could  account  for  it ;  and  I  never 
allow  mystlf  to  be  stumped,  so  I  just  give  him  reasons  he  didn't  think 
of.  Yes,  I  believe  it  too,  for  Captain  Taylor  is  as  bratWfe.  man  as  ever 
Captain  Torrens  was,  as  little  likely  to  be  deceived,  and  a  man  of 
undoubted  veracity,     l^'es,  I  believe  it."* 


*  These  two  stories  are  given  with  the  real  names.  The  first  is  well 
known  to  an  officer  of  the  7th,  still  living,  who  was  intimately  acquainted 
with  the  parties;  and  all  those  persons  named  in  the  second,  were  well 
known  to  myself. — Author. 

-- .         .  .»■,■;:  ' ''    .■'■!.•■(;  :t?-^i.,v. 


II 


ii: 


''m 


V  'A 


■M 


BBI 


\ 


mmt 


mw 


15d 


i\ 


THE    WITCH    OF    ESKISOONY.  T* 


.^S-^»;    ■» 


'^ . ' 


•  ;}^»U'' ■  «•-■'-■'■    ■•!!/"* 


CHAPTEll  XVII. 


THE   WITCH  OF  ESKISOONY. 


f 


In  the  mornin',  all  was  bustle  on  board  of  the  '  Black  Hawk ',' 
boats  and  canoes  were  alongside  from  various  parts  of  the  harbour, 
and  a,  rapid  sale  was  effected  of  the  "  notions  "  on  board,  either  for 
,1  money,  or  by  barter  for  fish  and  oil.  While  these  were  conducted 
)  under  the  auspices  of  the  mate  and  the  pilot,  I  took  the  gig,  and 
puttin'  into  it  my  fishin'4ackle,  rifle  and  carpet-bag,  containin'  a  few 
changes,  I  rowed  up  the  river  to  the  residence  of  my  old  friend, 
Gaptia  CoUin^mppd. 

The  house  w!ra  situated  on  a  gentle  acclivity,  that  sloped  gradually 
down  to  the  river,  commandin'  a  view  of  several  of  its  windings,  but 
sheltered  fron^R  Atlantic  storms  by  a  projectin*  wooded  promon- 
tory, that  shut  in  the  harbour,  and  gave  it  an  air  of  seclusion  and 
repose.  Seein'  a  man  at  some  little  distance,  haulin'  sea-weed  in  an 
ox-cart,  I  ascertained  from  him  all  the  particulars  concernin'  the 
family,  and  the  whereabouts  of  all  its  members.  I  always  do  this 
when  I  visit  a  house  arter  a  long  absence,  to  avoid  puttin'  ontimely 
questions.  It  isn't  pleasant,  in  a  gineral  way,  to  inquire  after  the 
old  lady,  and  find  her  place  supplied  by  another ;  or  after  a  son  that's 
dead  and  buried,  or  a  gal  that's  taken  it  into  her  head  to  get  married 
without  leave.  Them  mistakes  make  a  feller  look  blank,  and  don't 
make  you  more  welcome,  that's  a  fact.  "  Don't  care,"  won't  hear 
friendship  for  fruit,  and  ^^  Don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  loon't  ripen  it. 
Life  has  a  chart  as  locll  as  a  coast,  and  a  little  care  loill  keep  you 
clear  of  rocks,  reefs  and  sandbars. 

After  I  had  heard  all  I  wanted,  sais  I,  "  Friend,  one  good  turn 
deserves  another,  now  your  off-ox  aint  as  smart,  or  as  strong  as  your 
near  one." 

''  Well,  that's  a  fact,"  sais  he,  "  he  aint." 

"Give  him  a  little  more  of  the  yoke-beam,"  sais  I,  ''that  will 
'  give  him  more  purchase,  and  make  him  even  with  tother." 

"  Well,  I  never  thought  of  that,"  said  he. 

"  Mornin' "  sais  I.  "  Come,  steward,  you  and  I  must  be  a 
movin'. 

"  '  Never  thought  of  that,' "  said  I,  "  Sorrow,"  addressin'  of  the 
nigger  sarvant,  "well,  I  don't  believe  that  goney  will  ever  *  think 
of  that  again,'  for  advice  that  ain't  paid  for  ain't  no  good.  But  here 
we  are  at  the  house ;  now  put  down  the  things  and  cut  for  the  vessel, 
you  may  be  wanted." 


iiti 


THE    WITCH    OP    ESKISOONY. 


159 


I  paused  a  moment  before  knockin'  at  the  door,  to  take  a  look  at 
tho  scene  before  mc.  IIow  familiar  it  looked !  and  yet  how  many 
things  had  happened  to  me  since  I  was  here !  A  member  of  the 
embassy  to  London  —  an  Attache — visitin'  palaces,  castles,  country- 
scats  and  town-houses.  How  will  country  gals  in  Nova  Scotia  look 
after  well-dressed  fashionable  ladies  to  England,  that  art  has  helped 
natur'  to  make  handsome,  and  wealth  held  out  the  puss  to,  wide 
open,  and  said,  "  Don't  spare,  for  there's  plenty  more  ?"  The  Town 
Hall  to  Slickville,  that  seemed  so  large  afore  I  left,  looked  like 
nothin'  when  I  came  back,  the  Museum  warn't  as  good  as  an  old 
curiosity  shop,  and  the  houses  looked  as  if  the  two  upper  storeys  had 
been  cut  oflF. 

AVill  these  gals  of  Collingwood's  seem  coarse,  or  vulgar  ?  or  con- 
saitcd,  or  ignorant,  or  what  ?  If  I  thought  they  would  I  wouldn't 
go  in.  I  like  'em  too  well  to  draw  comparisons  agin  'em.  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  they  looked  the  best  of  the  two,  artcr  all !  First,  I  know 
they'll  bo  more  bloomin',  for  they  keep  better  hours ;  next,  they  are 
natcral,  and  tho'  first  chop  ladies  to  London  arc  so  too,  yet  art  is 
only  polished  natur',  and  the  height  of  it  is  to  loofPhateral.  It's 
like  the  rael  thing,  but  it  wants  life.  One's  an  artificial  flower :  the 
other's  a  rael  genuine  rose.  One  has  no  scent :  the  other's  parfume 
itself.  I  guess,  at  last,  high-bred  beauty  looks  best  "to  high-bora 
folks,  and  simple  country  trainin'  to  folks  that's  used  to  it  them- 
selves. Circumstances,  education,  and  custom  makes  circles  in  Eng- 
land and  the  States,  in  monarchies  and  republics,  and  everywhere 
else,  and  always  will ;  and  I  reckon  everybody  had  better  keep  to 
his  own,  or  at  any  rate  to  one  that  ain't  very  far  above  or  below  it. 
A  man  must  keep  his  own  circle,  like  his  own  side  of  the  road,  un- 
less he  wants  to  be  elbowed  and  jostled  for  everlastin'. 

I  wonder  whether  Sophy  would  do  for  me,  or  whether  she  would 
hear  transplantin'  to  Slickville?  Let's  see,  here  goes;  and  just  as 
I  lifted  up  my  hand  to  rap  on  tho  door,  swing  it  went  open,  and  it 
nearly  hit  her  in  the  face.  As  she  started  and  coloured  with  sur- 
prise, I  thought  I  never  see  so  handsome  a  gal  in  my  life.  "Well 
done,  natur'!"  sais  I  to  myself,  "you've  carried  the  day,  and  I 
kinder  guessed  you  would." 

"Don't  be  skeered.  Miss,"  said  I,  "ray  hand  was  lifted  agin  the 
door,  and  not  agin  you,  to  enquire  if  my  old  friend,  the  Captin,  was 
to  home." 

She  said  he  was  absent,  but  would  be  back  in  time  for  dinner; 
and,  as  her  little  brother  made  his  appearance  with  his  satchel  over 
his  shoulder,  he  and  I  lifted  into  the  hall  my  travellin'  traps.  It 
was  plain  she  didn't  recollect  me,  and  I  don't  know  as  I  should  have 
know'd  her,  if  I  hadn't  seen  her  to  home  —  she  had  filled  out,  and 
developed  into  so  fine  a  woman  ! 

Arter  a  while,  sais  she,  "  You  have  the  advantage  of  me,  Sir  ? 


i 


ft 


160 


TUE     WITOII     0¥    ESKISOONY.i  i^'    y 


^^ 


if 


i!i  ii 

,  ii 

lllilllll  lllHi] 

III   n 

M    w 

M 

i     1 

i   1 

If   1 

M 

(meanin',  *  Pray  what  may  your  name  be  ?'  it's  a  common  phrase, 
this  side  of  the  Atlantic) ;  but  I  evaded  it. 

♦'No/'  sais  I,  "  Miss  Sophy,  you  have  the  advantage  of  me;  for 
you  have  youth,  bloom  and  beauty  on  your  side :  and  I  am  so  *  vcdder 
bcaden,*  as  poor  old  Rodenheiser  over  the  river  there  used  to  say, 
that  you  don't  recollect  me.  But  where  is  Mary  ?  tell  her  that  her 
old  friend,  Mr.  Slick,  has  come  to  see  her."  "  ill- 

"  Mr.  Slick,''  said  she,  "  well,  what  a  surprise  this  is !  I  knew 
your  face  and  your  voice,  but  I  couldn't  just  call  your  name,  not  ex- 
pectin'  to  see  you,  and  being  taken  by  surprise,  it  confused  mo. 
Why,  how  do  you  do  ?  —  how  glad  I  am  to  sec  you  !  Jemmy,  call 
Mary;  but  don't  tell  her  who  it  is,  see  if  her  memory  is  better  than 
mine.  How  delighted  my  father  will  be  !  He  often  talks  of  you, 
and  only  yesterday  wondered  where  you  were." 

Mary,  like  her  sister,  had  greatly  improved  in  appearance ;  but, 
unlike  her,  knew  me  at  once,  and  I  was  at  home  once  more  among 
friends.  The  country  is  the  place  for  warm  hearts.  The  field  is 
larger,  and  fewer  in  it,  than  in  cities ;  and  they  aint  fenced  in,  and 
penned  up,  andUBbn't  beat  by  rule.  Feelins  rise  sudden,  like  freshets, 
and  gush  right -over;  and  then  when  they  subside  like,  run  deep,  and 
clear,  and  transparent*. 

A  country  welcome,  like  a  country  wood-fire,  is  the  most  bright 
and  charmin'  thing  in  the  world :  warms  all,  and  cheers  all,  and 
lights  up  everythin'.  Oh  !  give  me  the  country,  and  them  that  live 
in  it.  Poor  dear  old  Minister  used  to  say,  "  The  voice  that  whispers 
in  the  trees,  and  intones  the  brooks,  or  calls  aloud  in  the  cataracts, 
is  the  voice  of  Him  that  made  them ;  and  the  birds  that  sing,  and 
the  fish  that  leap  with  joy,  and  the  hum  of  unseen  myriads  of  ani- 
mate creatures,  and  the  flowers  of  the  fields,  and  the  blossoming 
shrubs,  all  speak  of  peace,  quiet,  and  happiness.  Is  it  any  wonder 
that  those  who  live  there  become  part  of  the  landscape,  and  harmo- 
nize with  all  around  them  ?  They  inhale  fragrance ;  and  are  healthy, 
and  look  on  beauty  till  they  reflect  it  ?"  I  remember  his  very  words; 
and  what  was  there  that  ho  didn't  say  pretty  ?  But  these  galls  have 
set  me  off  thinkin'  over  his  poetical  ideas. 

I  wonder  if  comin'  by  sea  makes  the  contrast  greater  ?  P'raps  it 
does,  for  all  natur  loves  variety.  Artor  a  little  chat,  thinks  I,  Pli 
just  take  myself  off  now  for  a  spell;  for,  in  course,  there  is  some- 
thin'  to  do  when  a  stranger  arrives ;  and  when  most  that  is  done,  is 
done  by  folks  themselves.  The  great  secret  of  life  is  never  to  he  in 
the  icai/  of  others.  So  sais  I,  "  Jemmy,  my  boy,  did  you  ever  see  a 
salmon  caught  with  a  fly  ?" 

"No,  Sir,"  said  he. 

"  Well,  then,  s'posen  you  and  I  go  down  to  where  the  Eskisoony 
stream  jincs  the  river,  and  I  will  raise  one  for  dinner  in  less  than 
half  no  time.     It's  beautiful  sport." 

■     .     /*■ 


'>♦» 


THE     WITCH     or     ESKISOONY. 


lui' 


"I  ■will  jist  run  up  and  put  on  my  bonnet,  and  walk  with  you/' 
said  Sophy.  "  I  have  often  hcerd  of  fly-fishin',  but  never  saw  it. 
This  week  is  my  holidays,  for  it's  Mary's  turn  to  be  housekeeper." 

''Any  chaiice  of  a  shot,  my  little  man?"  sais  I.     "Shall  I  take 

my  rifle?"         -    -''        -■■'       -•     .^     ^.  '''<    ''i'^     :,'  '^;- 

"  Oh,  yes,  Sir ;  the  minks  and  otters,  at  this  season,  are  very  busy 
fishin'." 

"  There's  some  chance  for  a  fur-cap  for  you  then,  this  winter,  ray 
boy,"  sais  I. 

Having  prepared  all  things  necessary,  and  loaded  little  Jem  ray 
with  the  fishin'-rod  and  landin'-nct,  I  took  Sophy  under  one  arm, 
and  slung  my  rifle  over  the  other,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  on  the 
best  spot  on  the  river  for  salmon. 

"  Now,  my  little  squire,  look  here,"  sais  I.  "  Do  you  sec  where 
the  water  shoals  above  that  deep,  still  pool  ?  Well,  that  is  the  place 
to  look  for  the  gentleman  to  invite  to  dinner.  Choose  a  fly  always 
like  the  flies  of  the  season  and  place,  for  he  has  an  eye  for  natur  as 
well  as  you ;  and  as  you  are  agoin'  to  take  him  in  so,  he  shan't  know 
bis  own  food  when  he  sees  it,  you  must  make  it  lo&k  like  the  very 
identical  thing  itself,  or  else  ho  turns  up  his  nose  at  it,  laughs  in  his 
gills,  and  sais  to  himself,  *  I  aint  such  a  fool  as  you  take  me  to  be.' 
Then  throw  your  line  clear  across  the  stream ;  float  it  gently  down 
this  way,  and  then  lift  the  head  of  the  rod,  and  trail  it  up  conside- 
rable quick  —  tip,  tip,  tip,  on  the  water.  Ah  !  that's  a  trout,  and  a 
fine  fellow  too.  That's  the  way  to  play  him  to  drown  him.  Now 
for  the  landin'-net.  Aint  he  a  whopper?"  In  a  few  minutes,  a 
dozen  and  a  half  of  splendid  trout  were  extended  on  the  grass. 
"  You  see  the  trout  take  the  fly  before  I  have  a  chance  to  trail  it  up 
the  stream.  Now,  I'll  not  float  it  down,  for  that's  their  game ;  but 
cast  it  slantin'  across,  and  then  skim  it  up,  as  a  nateral  fly  skims 
along.  That's  the  ticket !  I've  struck  a  nobliferous  salmon.  Now 
you'll  see  sport."  The  fish  took  down  the  stream  at  a  great  rate, 
and  I  in  and  after  him ;  stayin'  but  not  snubbin',  rcstrainin'  but  not 
chcckin'  him  short ;  till  he  took  his  last  desperate  leap  clear  out  of 
the  water,  and  then  headed  up  stream  again ;  but  he  grew  weaker 
and  weaker,  and  arter  a  while  I  at  last  reached  the  old  stand,  brought 
him  to  shore  nearly  beat  out,  and  pop  he  went  into  the  net.  "That's 
lesson  number  one.  Jemmy.  Now  we'll  set  down  under  the  oaks, 
and  wait  till  the  disturbance  of  the  water  is  over.  How  strange  it 
is,  Sophy,  that  you  couldn't  recollect  me  !  Maybe  it's  witohery,  for 
that  has  a  prodigious  effect* upon  the  memory.  Do  you  believe  in 
witches  ?"  said  I,  leaning  on  ray  elbow  in  the  grass,  and  looking  up 
into  her  pretty  face.  •.    , 

''  How  can  I  believe,  who  never  saw  one  —  did  you  ?" 
"  Just  come  from  a  county  in  England,"  said  I,  "  that's  chockful 


of  'em." 


14* 


1C2 


THK     WITOII     OF     ESKISOONY. 


I  !l!'i"l 


'liiT. 


!  i 


fj 


JH'-.V." 


II  ;( 


*<Do  toll  mo,"  said  she,  "what  sort  of  looking  people  tUcy  are. 
Little,  cross,  spiteful,  crooked  old  women,  aint  they  ?" 

1  *' Tiio  most  splendid  galls,"  sais  1,  ''mortal  man  ever  beheld; 
lialf-angol,  half-woman,  with  a  touch  of  cherubim,  musical  tongues, 
tolcgraph  9ycs,  and  cheeks  made  of  red  and  white  rosea.'  They'd 
bewitch  Old  Scratch  himself,  if  ho  was  only  to  look  on  'em.  They 
call  'em  Lancashire  witches."  .  .^- 

"Did  they  ever  bewitch  you?"  she  said,  laughin*. 

"Well,  they  would,  that's  a  fact;  only  I  had  boeu  bewitched 
before  by  a  far  handsomer  ono  than  any  of  them." 

"  And  pray,  who  is  she?" 

"  If  I  was  to  call  her  up  from  the  deep,"  sais  I,  "  haVo  you 
courage  enough  to  look  her  in  the  facei!"' 

Well,  she  looked  a  little  chalky  at  that,  but  said,  with  a  steady 
voice,  "  Certainly  I  have.  I  never  did  any  harm  to  any  one  in  my 
life;  why  should  I  be  afraid  of  her,  especially  if  she's  so  handsome?" 

"Well,  then,  I'll  raise  her;  and  you'll  see  what  I  never  saw  in 
England  or  elsewhere.  I'll  show  her  to  you  in  the  pool;"  and  I 
waved  my  hand  three  or  four  times  round  my  head,  and  with  a  staff 
made  a  circle  on  the  ground,  pretendin'  to  comply  with  rules,  and 
look  wise.  "Come,"  sais  I,  "sweet  witch,  rise  and  show  your 
beautiful  face.  Now,  give  me  your  hand,  Miss;"  and  I  led  her 
down  to  the  deep,  still,  transparent  pool. 

"Mr.  Slick,"  said  she,  "I'm  not  sure  the  raisin'  of  spirits  is  right- 
for  you  to  do." 

But  I  said,  "I  would  look  on  this  one,  and  I  will,  to  show  you 
there's  nothing  to  be  afraid  of,  but  doing  wrong.  Stoop  and  look 
into  the  water,"  sais  I ;  "  now,  what  do  you  see  ?" 

"Nothing,"  she  said,  "but  some  trout  swimmin'  slowly  about?" 

"  Hold  your  head  a  little  higher,"  sais  1.  "Move  a  little  further 
this  way,  on  account  of  the  light;  that's  it.    What  do  you  see  now?" 

"  Nothin'  but  my  own  face." 

"Are  you  sure?  look  again." 

"  Certainly,  it's  my  own ;  I  ought  to  know  it." 

"  Well,  that's  the  face  of  Sophy,  the  Witch  of  Eskisoony." 

Well,  she  jumped  up  on  her  feet,  and  she  didn't  look  pleased  at 
the  joke,  I  tell  you. 

Sais  she,  "  Mr.  Slick,  that's  not  right ;  you  have  seen  a  good  deal 
of  the  world,  and  we  arc  simple-minded,  rustic  people  here.  It  is 
not  right  to  play  us  ofFthat  way  for  your  own  amusement,  or  that  of 
your  readers.  It's  not  kind,  nor  is  it  right  to  praiso  one  so  extrava- 
gantly. A  woman  nmst  be  foolish  to  believe  it  or  receive  it.  You 
left  us  a  friend,  and  have  returned  a  flatterer." 

Hurrah  for  good  sense,  sais  I  to  myself,  that's  the  plant  for 
Slickville. 

"  Miss  Sophy,"  sais  I,  "  you  forgot  my  name,  and  now  it's  clear 


THE    WITCH    OP    ESKISOONY. 


163 


you'vo  forgot  nay  way  and  manner,  or  you  would  recollect  banteriu* 
talk  is  lis  uatorul  to  mo  as  siugin'  is  to  a  canary  bird.  I  don't  mean 
iiotliiu'  but  good  natur*  by  it.  I'm  dreadful  sorry  for  sayin'  or  doin'  . 
aiiythin'  you  don't  a])provo.  You  havu't  seen  mo  of  late,  and  can't 
lio'lp  toeliu'  a  little  of  tho  rcsarvo  of  a  stranger.  You  would'nt  a 
lainded  it  a  month  hence,  when  tho  past  and  present  was  jined,  and 
all  that's  atwcen  seemed  one.  admit  I  was  wrong.  People  may 
ccnd  familiar,  but  they  should'nt  begin  familiar.  To  call  an  ugly 
woman  by  her  right  name  would  entitle  a  feller  to  a  kickin',  but  to 
call  a  beautiful — no,  that's  too  tlatterin'  a  word — a  handsome — no, 
that's  too  familiar — a  pretty  girl — well,  that  word  may  pass,  though 
it  falls  short  —  a  pretty  girl  a  pretty  girl,  ain't  such  a  deadly  sin,  I 
think,  arter  all." 

Well,  she  laughed.  "  Nor  I  cither,"  said  she.  "  But  come,  let's 
talk  no  more  about  it;  perhaps  I  made  too  much  of  it;  I  believe 
I  did." 

Hurrah  for  human  natur',  says  I  agin,  to  myself.  I  would'nt 
give  a  cent  for  a  g;dl  that  isn't  well  provided  with  it. 

"No  you  didn't,"  sais  I.  "I  was  wrong,  and  am  sorry  for  it. 
Ri'surve  is  a  It iic.  fence,  tluit  tu'ijhbour^  Jtacc  to  keep  up,  to  prevent 
(ur roacJimcnts.  Tho  most  beautiful  roses  in  the  world  have  thorns  and 
prickles  all  under  their  leaves,  and  around  their  stems,  that  scratch, 
and  jab,  and  hurt  like  anythin';  well,  they're  there  for  defence. 
If  folks  will  let  the  roses  alone,  the  thorns  will  let  them  bo ;  but  if 
tlicy  rumfoozlo  tho  flower,  why  they  just  catch  it,  right  and  left, 
that's  all.  If  it  waru't  for  them,  there  wouldn't  be  no  roses  at  all; 
tbcy  couldn't  show  their  pretty  faces;  and  they  have  as  good  a  right 
to  show  their  bloomiu'  smilin'  cheeks  as  Lancashire  witches  or  Esca- 
soon  —  (I  like  to  have  made  a  hole  in  my  manners),  or  any  other 
pretty  little  witches.  If  it  warn't  for  them,"  said  I,  "  the  cows 
would  browse  on  all  that  grow  spontaneous-like  in  the  fields,  and  the 
goats  feed  on  'cm,  and  the  sheep  nibble  away  at  'cm  like  any  thin' j 
there  wouldn't  soon  be  a  rose  on  the  face  of  the  airth." 

"Well,  you  do  talk  different  from  anybody  else,"  she  said,  "that's 
a  fact.  I  didn't  mean  to  be  angry  with  you,  and  I  don't  think  I 
could,  if  I  did." 

"  Well,  come  and  sit  down,"  sais  T,  "  under  the  oalvs  again,  and 
I'll  tell  you  a  curious  story  of  an  old  woman  that  was  bewitched  at 
Annapolis,  as  you  was,  and  lost  her  memory.  Well,"  sais  I,  "  when 
I  first  went  to — But,  hush !"  said  I,  and  1  laid  my  hand  on  her  arm, 
for  just  then  I  heerd  a  rushin',  tramplin'  kind  of  noise  in  the  alder- 
bushes,  right  across  tho  Eskisoony  run,  that  suddenly  stopped,  and 
then  a  sort,  of  puflin',  and  loud  brcatliin',  like  little  model  engines. 
"What's  that  if"  sais  I,  in  a  whisper. 

"  It 's  the  young  cattle,"  said  she. 

"No,"  said  I,  "that's  not  the  way  they  browse.     Keep  as  still 


\ 


/:■ 


■■&■ 


iifi 


164 


THE     WITCH    OP    ESKISOONY.      ♦» 


)> 


aa  a  mouso."  And  I  put  my  heels  on  tlio  grass,  and  lifted  up  my 
V^eight  with  my  handti,  and  amporsanded  forwards  that  way  until  I 
'got  near  the  troo,  when  I  took  up  my  rifle,  and  made  all  ready.  Just 
then  the  eracklin'  of  the  shrubs  showed  something  was  movin' 
on,  and  then  the  same  noise  was  made  further  beyond,  and  in  a  min- 
ute or  two,  a  beautiful  large  stately  carriboo  came  out  of  the  thicket, 
snuffed  up  the  air,  looked  round  cautious,  and  made  as  if  he  was 
a-goin'  to  take  a  drink,  to  cool  his  coppers.  I  drew  a  bead  on  him, 
and  let  him  have  it  as  quick  as  wink.  lie  sprang  up  on  eend,  the 
matter  of  a  yard  or  so,  and  fell  right  down  dead  in  the  bushes,  when 
off  started  the  herd  among  the  alders,  as  if  they  'd  crush  the  whole 
of  them  into  the  intervale.  ^ 

"You've  got  him,  Mr.  Slick!"  said  Jemmy,  who  was  about 
jumpin'  up  on  his  feet,  when  I  pulled  him  down  again. 

"  Hush  I"  said  I,  "  not  a  word  for  your  life.  Keep  dark  and  lay 
low,  they'll  come  back  again  to  look  after  him  presently,  and  then 
I'll  get  unother  shot."  And  I  reloaded  as  fast  as  I  could,  crawled 
nearer  the  trank  of  the  tree,  and  got  a  position  for  coverin'  anythin' 
for  some  distant^  up  and  down  stream.  Artcr  layin'  a  while  there, 
the  same  traiuplin'  was  heard  again,  and  then  the  same  hard  brcath- 
in',  and  then  the  sounds  of  more  than  one  advancin',  when  two  lead- 
ers came  out  of  the  bush,  and  stood  and  looked  at  their  old  captain, 
a-wondcrin'  what  or  airth  was  the  matter  with  him,  when  bang  went 
the  rifle,  and  down  wrent^ another  noble  buck  right  across  him. 

"Now,  Jemmy,"  sais  I,  ""we  can  afford  to  talk,  for  I  don't  want 
to  kill  no  more.  There 's  one  for  the  house,  and  one  for  the  *  Black 
Hawk,'  and  it's  my  rule  not  to  waste  God's  bounties." 

"  And  a  very  good  rule  it  is,  too,"  said  Sophy.  "  I  never  could 
boar  to  hear  of  their  bein'  shot  just  for  sport,  and  then  left  in  the 
woods  for  the  crows  and  foxes  to  eat.  That  don 't  seem  to  me  the 
purpose  Providence  designed  'era  for.  What  on  airth  could  have 
brought  them  away  down  here  ?  I  don't  remember  ever  hearin'  of 
any  being  so  near  the  coast  before." 

"  The  witch  of  Eskisoo  —  Oh !  I  was  very  nearly  in  for  it  again  !" 
says  I. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  she,  laughin',  "  there's  many  a  mistake  made  on 
purpose."  * 

"There's  something  diflicult  to  get  out  of  the  head  of  Sophy," 
sais  I,  "and  some  more  difl&cult  to  get  out  of  the  heart."  She  col- 
oured some  at  that,  and  kinder  looked  down ;  but,  woman  like,  was 
cunnin'  of  fence,  and  answered  right  off. 

"  And  among  them  the  love  of  banter,  that 's  born  in  some  folks, 
I  do  believe.     But  go  on  with  your  Annapolis  story." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  and  I  rested  agin  on  my  elbow,  and  looked  up 
into  her  beautiful  face  —  for  there 's  no  way  a  gall  looks  so  pretty  as 
when  in  that  position.     If  they  have  to  look  up  to  you,  it  kinder 


THE    WTTOn    OF    ERKISOONT. 


165 


causes  them  to  throw  the  head  hack,  opens  the  eyes  too  wide,  and 
covers  the  whole  face  with  strong  lij^ht.  Half  tho  beauty,  and  moro 
nor  halt'  the  exprcssiou  id  lost.  Jio.sidc;),  tlio  neck  is  apt  to  look 
cordy.  When  they  look  down,  the  eyelashes  fall,  tind  tho  eye  in 
better  shaped,  moro  oval,  less  round,  and  is  moro  liquid.  The  beau- 
tiful bow-shapo  of  the  mouth  shows  better,  tho  ringlets  hang  graoo- 
fiil  and  there's  shapes  here  and  there  in  the  face  that  3ots  it  off 
grand.  Nothin' ever  looks  pretty  in  glare.  That's  tho  advantage 
in  pain  tin'.  It  makes  one  know  what  ho  could  u't  lam  without  it. 
My  clocks  have  been  tho  makin'  of  rao,  that's  a  fact.  Daubiu' 
figures  on  'em  set  mo  to  study  drawin'  and  paintin',  and  that  made 
nic  study  natur.  An  artist  has  more  than  two  cf/cs,  that 's  a  fact. 
"Sophy,"  sais  I,  "aforo  I  go,  I  must  try  and  tako  you,  just  as  you 
now  sit." 

"Take  mo  ?"  she  said,  lookin'  puzzled.         «        .  i    , 

"Yes,"  sais  I;  "I  have  my  drawiu'-pencil  and  sketchin'-block 
here,  and  if  you  only  knew  how  bccomin'  that  attitude  is  —  how 
beautiful  yon  do — " 

"Oh,  como  now."  sho  said,  "don't  talk  nonsense  that  way,  that's 
a  good  soul  1     Go  on  with  your  story." 

"Well,  I'll  try,"  sais  I,  "tho'  it's  hard  to  think  of  one  thing, 
and  talk  of  anotLu'-."  Tho  fact  is,  and  there's  no  dcnyin'  it,  much 
as  I've  laugheci  .J>  ».thers,  I  was  almost  spoony  myself.  "When  I 
first  went  down  to  Annapolis  —  Jemmy,"  sais  I,  "suppose  you 
carry  up  that  are  salmon  to  the  house ;  it 's  time  it  was  there  for 
dinner,  and  tell  some  of  the  men  folks,  when  they  return  at  twelve 
o'clock,  to  bring  down  a  wooden-shod  ox-sled  to  carry  up  the  deer. 
It  will  side  over  the  grass  most  as  easy  as  snow.  When  I  first  went 
to  Annapolis,"  sais  I.  Just  then  Sophy  looked  over  her  shoulder 
arter  Jemmy,  and  seemed  oneasy  like;  I  suppose  she  didn't  half 
like  bcin'  left  alone  there  with  me  a  lollin'  on  the  grass,  and  sho 
was  right.  It  ain't  enough  for  galls  not  to  give  jicople  reason  to 
talk  ;  they  shouldn't  even  give  them  a  chance.  But  if  she  took  mo 
into  her  calculations  she  was  wrong.  When  folks  confides  in  me, 
I'd  die  to  presarve  confidence.  When  they  tako  the  reins  and  trust 
to  their  own  drivin',  I  leave  'em  to  take  care  of  themselves,  and  jist 
look  arter  number  one." 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  sais  she,  "  I  beg  pardon  for  interruptin'  you,  but 
we  are  loavin'  poor  Mary  all  alone.  I  think  we'd  better  return, 
p'raps." 

"Jemmy,"  sais  I,  a  calliu'  arter  him  ever  so  loud,  "ask  Miss 
Mary  if  she  won't  come  and  see  a  salmon  caught.  Oh !  don't  go, 
Miss,"  sais  I ;  "I  have  to  leave  to-morrow,  and  it's  such  a  treat  for 
mc  to  sec  you,  and  talk  to  you,  you  can't  think." 

"  To-morrow  !"  sais  she.     "  Oh  my,  you  don't  say  so  !" 

."Well,  let's  talk  of  to-morrow,"  sais  i,  "when  to-morrow  comes. 


'  Iff 


m. 


f'w- 


ipiii  I 


ICii 


T  II  K    W  1  'l'  <ni    o  V    F.  H  ICl  H  0  (»  N  Y . 


r< 


^  13 


:i.i:,'ii;ii^.. 


■"'"i, 


'wL'i'i! 


iiii 


Sophy,"  !\tid  T  took  hor  lumtl,  "Hnpliy,"  mU  I,  und  I  looked  upiuto 
hor  face;  I  don't,  think  who  oviir  lookod  so  liaiidHonic  uforo  sitioo  ftho 
wiiM  born,  "  Sophy  -"  mid  what  1  was  agoiu'  U)  my  ain't  no  muttor, 
for  .shi'  UituhM-  v'ut  it  tihort,  and  Niiid : 

"  Well,'  |i,o  on  with  yonr  ^<tovy  thon,  IMr.  Slick." 

Sum,  nais  1  to  inys(>U',  a  faint  heart,  yon  know,  novor  won  a  fair 
lady;  yon  have  Inrnctl  into  a  nateral  i'ot>l,  I.  do  hclievo.  ;       ''^"' 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  when  I  lirnfc  went  to  Annapoliw,  Ihoro  was  an 
ohl  laily  there,  one  IMrs.  Lothrop,  a  vcM'y  old  woman;  and  wlu^n  mIio 
heard  1  was  there,  she  f^ent  lor  mo.  When  she  was  a  littlo  girl,  she 
lived  at  Hrooklyn  Vvvvy,  where  iior  father  died  wlien  nho  woh  nine 
years  old.  Artor  that,  who  lived  in  the  honse  of  ii  loyalist,  named 
liothrop,  and  married  ono  of  his  sons,  and  when  the  war  canio,  moved 
down  ti)  this  eonntry. 

"  Well,  slu*  wanted  to  talk  of  Long  Island,  and  the  old  f(M*ry,  and 
iho  market  days,  and  what  not,  of  old  times.  Sho  raid  sho  wonld 
like  to  eend  hor  days  there ;  that  sho  was  snro  the  moon  was  larger 
there  than  here,  and  shom^  brighter,  and  the  frnit  W!is  bettor,  and 
the  people  honoster,  and  1  don't  know  what  jdl.  It  was  a  great 
comfort  to  hvx  to  see  mo,  and  lu>ar  herscdf  talk  about  those  things; 
lind  every  time  I.  went  there,  I  used  to  go  and  sec  her,  it  pleased 
her  MO 

"Well,  the  last  time  f  was  to  that  town^  tho  servant  waked  nio 
up  about  daylight  one  day,  and  said,  *I\Ir.  ]<othrop'  (that  was  hor 
youngest  sou,  for  her  husband  liad  been  long  dead)  '  was  below,  and 
wanted  to  see  mo  in  a  great  hurry.' 

" '  Tell  him  I'll  be  down  toreotly,'  sais  I. 

"  '  Oh  I'  sais  tho  servant,  '  he  is  earryln'  on  dreivlful  down  there, 
and  sjiis  he  must  see  you  this  very  blessed  minute.' 

"*Toll  him  to  oome  up,  then,'  sais  1,  'and  I'll  talk  to  him  hero 
in  bed.' 

♦'  Well,  in  run  Lothrop,  a-wringin'  of  his  hand,  and  lookin'  as 
palo  as  a  ghost,  and  a  goin'  round  and  round  tho  room,  like  a  ravin' 
distracted  bedbug." 

"  What  a  eurions  expression  !"  said  Sophy,  and  sho  larfed  like  any* 
thin'.     "  How  droll  you  do  talk,  Mr.  Slick !" 

*'it's  a  way  1  have,  sometim;.:s,"  said  I. 

"  AV^oll,  go  on,"  says  sho. 
V-   "Well,  all  tho  goney  could  say  was,  'Oh,  Mr.  Slick!  ob,  Mr. 
Slick  !  — it's  a  dreadful  jnece  of  business  about  mother!     OKI  ohl' 
Bais  he,  and  ho  boohood  right  out,  like  a  child. 

"  *  Oome,  Lothrop,*  sais  I,  a-raisin'  of  myself  up  in  bed,  *  bo  a  man, 
and  tell  me  what  you  are  makin'  this  overlastin'  touss  about,' 

*<  *  Oh  !  oh  !'  sais  ho,  '  I  can't;  it's  too  bad  1'  and  oil'  ho  sot  agin, 
a  blubberin'  like  a  school-boy. 

"  At  last,  1  got  riled  and  fairly  got  my  dander  up.     '  Como,  out 


^,  ♦ 


WfK 


\:ii 


vor  won  a  fuir 


>f_) 


TMK    WrT(in    UV    KMKfHOONY. 


107 


with  it/  mm  I,  *liko  h  rniin,  or  out  with  yourwolf  from  thia  room, 
anil  ht  nio  go  to  uloop.     Whiit  iiUm  tlio  old  huiy  ?  —  in  who  (load  ?' 

<"()h  1  WUH  iKir  flmtl' 

"*  Hiidod  oiF  imd  ^(it  iiiurriod  iigiu?'  ^4^iH  1.  Well  that  kinder 
j^iig^dd  him,  and  cooled  hii'i  down  ii  hit. 

♦< '  Hiuiod  oil'  and  got  nuirriiMl!'  nais  ho,  'Y  didn't  expect  to  hear 
yon  Hpnak  ko  dlHreHjicdUnl  of  po(ir  dear  mother  1  You  know  that's 
oiipossihle,  in  tlio  nalnr'  ol"  lliijigs;  hnt  if  it  war,  it's  wim  nor  that  I' 

'"Well,  wluit  in  natnr'  is  il/r"  nais  I. 

"Why,'  HaiH  he,  'she's  ho— -Ihi — bo — '  and  at  lawt  ho  giggog* 
gli'd  it  out,  'kIio's  1)0 — ho — bewitehcd  I' 

"<  Hii  — 1)0  — he  —  witched  !'  Haiw  T,  a-runokin*  him,  for  unless  I 
miide  him  mad,  T  knew  I  fionldn't  make  him  talk;  'yon  ho  —  ho  — 
1)0  —  hanged  1  you  great  hig,  hlnhh(>rin' l)loekhead  I  If  you  han't 
got  no  .Monso,  I'  hope  you'vo  got  some  decc-ney  loft.  Ho  clear  out  of 
tliJH,  aiul  let  mo  go  to  Hleop.  I  railly  didn't  think  you  was  bucIi  a 
bovnfool  1     (Jet  out  o*  this,  afore  I  put  you  out  1" 

"  'Oh  1  Mr.  Slick/  said  ho,  '  don't  b<i  wnithy  I  If  you  only  know 
(ill,  you  wouldn't  Hay  ho.     SIio'h  dreadful  to  heliold  !' 

" '  lint  I  do  know  all/  ,si>i,s  I.  M  know  there's  no  such  a  thing 
under  the  sun  as  a,  wil(^h  ;  if  there  was,  you'd  a-lieen  hanged  long 
"{'">  you're  such  a  knowin'  'coon.     Out  with  you!' 

"'  Mr.  Slick  1'  sais  he,  'oh,  Mr.  Slick  1  do  oomo  and  sco  her,  and 
toll  us  what  to  do  with  her  1' 

" '  Well,'  snis  I,  '  I  will,  for  her  sake  :  for  I'd  do  anything  amosfc 
for  her  J  hut  there's  one  thing  I'd  do  willingly  for  you,  and  that  is 
to  kick  you.' 

" '  Well,  then/  said  he,  '  if  she  aint  bewitched,  I'll  Htand  kickin' 
till  you'ro  tired.' 

" '  J)oiui,'  sais  T.  'do  and  harness  up  Old  (Hay,  and  I'll  dress  in 
II  jilVy  and  off.     Oonu^,  make  yourscilf  scarce  :  ))ear  a  hand.' 

"  Well,  as  wo  drove  along,  '  Now,'  sais  I,  'Lothrop,  if  you  don't 
want  mo  to  lose  my  tcnnpcr,  and  pilch  you  right  out  of  this  hero 
wagj^on,  Ix'gin  at  the  heginnin',  and  tell  mo  this  hero  foolish  story.' 

'"  Foolish  I'  said  lie.     '  Mr.  Slick,  I  am  sure — ' 

"I  jist  hauled  up  short.  'No  jaw/  sais  I.  'Just  begin  now, 
njid  tell  it  short,  f(»r  I  don't  a])prohato  long  yarns,*  (Sophy  smiled  at 
this,  a.-,  mimh  as  to  say  how  littlo  wo  know  ourselves,  but  she  didn't 
auy  nothin'),  'or  out  you  go.' 

'' '  Well,'  sais  he,  '  it  was  night  before  last.  Sir,  about  twelve 
o'clock,  as  near  I  can  guesH,  that  I  first  hecrd  the  witch  como  to  the 
house,  and  call  Mother!  through  the  roof.' 

"'What  an  overlastin',  abominable,  onaccountablo  fool  you  be, 
Lothrop,'  sais  T;  '  but  go  on.' 

"'  Let  mo  tell  it  my  own  way,'  sais  he.  '  Well,  Fanny  had  gone 
to  bed  before  me,  and  was  fast  aslecjp  when  I  turned  in,  and  I  was 


■v 


mmn^m 


ilin  I 


I  llillil'lr 


ii' 


•"•■•v 


168 


THE    WTTOH    OP    ESKISOONT. 


i' 


just  a  droppia'  off  into  the  land  of  nod,  when  whap  the  hag  jumped 
on  the  roof,  near  the  chmibly,  and  scratched  about  among  the  shin- 
gles with  her  broomstick,  and  called  out  two  witch  words  I  didn't 
understand.  Oh !  they  were  loud,  and  clear,  and  cold  enough  to 
freeze  you !  So  I  wakes  up  Fanny.  Fanny,  sais  I.  What,  dear  ? 
sais  she.  Just  listen.  Well,  I  am  listenin'  sais  she.  What  have 
you  got  to  say,  love  ?  Listen,  sais  I.  Well,  I  am  listening'  sais  she, 
quite  peevish-like  :  what  is  it,  dear  ?  Do  you  hear  anything  ?  sais  I. 
Yes,  sais  she,  dear,  I  hear  you.  Tut !  sais  I;  don't  you  hear  any- 
body else  ?  Why,  in  course,  I  do  j  I  hear  Granny  a  snorin',  that's 
all.  It  was  worth  while  to  wake  me  up  for  that,  warn't  it !  And 
she  turned  right  round  agin,  and  dropped  off  to  sleep  as  quick  as 
wink.  Well,  Christians  talkin'  that  way,  skeered  off'  the  witch,  or 
ghost,  or  banshee,  or  whatever  it  was ;  and  I  thought  it  was  all  over, 
and  had  just  begun  to  forget  all  about  it,  when  bang  it  come  agin 
upon  the  ridgepole,  and  called  twice  for  the  old  lady.  Well,  I  wakes 
up  wife  agin.  Fanny,  sais  I.  John,  sais  she,  what's  the  matter? 
what  on  uirth  ails  you  ?  Listen,  sais  I.  I  won't,  sais  she ;  so  there, 
now,  do  for  goodness  gracious  sake,  go  to  sleep.  Fanny,,  sais  I,  I  am 
skeered.  Qh  !  you've  been  dreamin',  sais  she  :  do  be  quiet  j  you'll 
wake  up  the  baby,  and  then  wo  shall  have  a  proper  hullabaloo  here. 
There,  sais  I,  didn't  you  hear  that  noise  now  ?  for  there  was  another 
call  as  plain  as  barkin'.  Yes,  said  she,  I  do;  it's  nothin'  but  an  owlj 
and  you  are  a  stupid  booby  too,  to  bo  scared  by  an  owl ;  seein'  you 
was  raised  in  the  woods.  I'll  g3t  right  up,  and  shoot  it,  sais  I;  I'm 
superstitious  about  owls.  They  bring  bad  luck;  their  great  goggle 
eyes  aint  nateral.  The  night  Jem  Donson  —  Jem  Denson  be  fid- 
dled, said  she,  and  you  too.     I'll  have  no  such  carryin's  on  here,  in 


the  night,  on  no  account. 


Go  right 


off  to  sleep  this  minute;  and 


she  put  her  arm  round  my  neck,  and  held  me  like  a  fox-trap,  and 
protended  to  snore  in  my  ear.  So  we  both  fell  into  a  sound  sleep, 
and  it  was  broad  day  when  I  woke  up.  When  I  did,  Fanny  had  me 
fast  by  the  neck  still ;  I  couldn't  get  her  arm  off.  Fanny,  sais  I, 
but  she  was  dead  asleep ;  Fanny,  dear  :  no  answer.  Fanny,  sais  I, 
a  undoin'  of  her  arm,  and  a  shakin'  her.  I  won't  listen  no  moro. 
It's  time  to  get  up,  sais  I.  I  won't,  sais  she ;  it's  nothin'  but  au 
owl.  Fact  is,  she  was  a  little  bewitched  herself,  without  knowin'  of 
it,  and  it  was  some  time  before  she  was  wide  awake.' 

" '  Your  wife  is  an  uuderstandin'  woman,'  sais  I ;  '  it's  a  pity  you 
hadn't  some  of  her  sense.' 

" '  Well,  I  got  up,  and  went  into  the  keepin'-room,  and  as  I  passed 
mother's  door,  I  heard  her  call  out  in  an  unairthly  voice.  Fanny, 
sais  I ;  but  she  was  a  dozin'  off  agin,  Fanny,  for  Heaven's  sake,  get 
up;  sais  I,  mother's  bewitched?  It's  you^  she  said,  that's  be- 
witched; it's  nothin'  but  an — an — o — owl,  and  off  she  dropt  agin  aa 
fast  as  a  pine-stump.     I  just  lifted  her  right  out  o'  bed,  carried  her 


ry/t^mm 


they  were 
'  Morniii'/ 
Can  I  see 


V,        THE    WITOH    OF    ESKISOONY. 

to  mother's  room  in  my  arms,  opened  the  door,  sot  her  on  the  floor, 
and  left  her  in  there.  In  less  than  a  minute,  she  screamed  awful, 
and  mother  screamed  herself  hoarse.  When  I  went  in  I  cried  like  a 
child.' 

" '  I've  no  doubt  you  did/  sais  I, '  and  yelled  loud  enough  to  wake 
the  dead.' 

" '  So  would  you/  said  ho,  '  if  you  had  a  been  there,  I  know,  and 
it  will  shock  you  awful  now.  Oh,  Mr.  Slick  !  what  a  time  we  have 
had  of  it  ever  since  !  There  she  lies,  talkin'  that  devilish  gibberish, 
and  then  she  cries,  and  sobs,  and  falls  asleep  exhausted,  and  then  at 
it  agin  like  any  thin'.  What  a  dreadful  fearful  thing  witchcraft  is  ! 
I  went  to  the  parson,  and  he  ordered  me  out  of  the  room,  and  told 
mo  it  was  scandalous  to  sec  me  so  drunk  at  such  a  time  of  the 
mornin'.     But  here  we  are.' 

"Well,  sure  enough,  the  whole  family  looked  as  if 
gathcrin'  for  a  funeral,  cry  in'  and  sobbin'  like  any  thin'. 
sais'  I,  '  Mrs.  Lothrop.     How  is  the  old  lady,  to-day  ? 
her  ?'     Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  I  went  into  her  room,  and 
held  out  my  hand  to  her  without  speakin'.     She  took  it,  and  then 
certainly  did  let  oflf  a  lingo  strange  enough  to  make  Adam  and  Eve 
stare.     Well,  I  sat  and  looked,  and  listened,  and  at  last  an  idea 
flashed  across  my  mind,  and  I  kneeled  down  close  by  the  bed,  and 
whispered  a  word  in  her  ear,  and  she  started,  looked  at  mc,  stared, 
and  then  the  tears  came  to  her  eyes.     Arter  the  space  of  a  minute 
more,  I  tried  another,  and  whispered  it  also,  and  she  put  her  hand 
on  my  head:  and  patted  it,  and  then  the  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks, 
but  she  was  quite  eased." 

"  What  was  them  two  words,  Mr.  Slick  ?  do  tell  mc.  That's  a 
very  curious  story,"  said  Sophy. 

Well,  I  wasn't  a-goin'  to  tell  her  jist  then;  it  spoils  stories  to  let 
the  cat  out  of  the  bag  too  soon,  and  I  was  spinnin'  it  as  long  as  I 
could,  to  keep  her  there,  it  was  so  pleasant.  What  a  inty  it  is 
marrylri'  spoils  conrtin',  "I'll  tell  you  in  a  minute/'  sais  I;  ''for 
I'm  afcerd  I'm  detainin'  oi  you.  Well,  if  Lothrop  and  his  wife 
didn't  look  amazed  it's  a  pity.  They  were  confirmed  in  their 
opinion  of  witches,  and  jist  looked  on  mc  with  wonder,  as  if  I  was 
one  myself." 

'' '  Well,'  said  Lothrop,  '  what  do  you  make  of  it,  Mr.  Slick  ?' 

" '  That  she's  no  more  bewitched,'  sais  I,  *  than  I  am ;  but  most 
drove  mad  by  you  and  your  confounded  tom-fooleries,  about  owls, 
broom-handles  and  fiddlesticks.  Now,  I  can't  cure  her,  and  I'm  most 
afcard  she  won't  be  never  quite  restored  agin  ;  but  I'll  go  and  bring 
her  case,  I  know.' 

Them  two  words  made  me  feel  quite  sure  I  was  right.     Knowin' 
what  a  great  thing  employment  is  to  people  who  are  in  trouble,  sais 
I, '  Mrs.  Lothrop,  this  great  wiseacre  here,  who  was  scared  by  au 
15 


■li*' 


;.^?a» 


BBi 


m 


170 


THE    WITCH     OP    ESKISOONY. 


owl,  hauled  me  out  of  bed  this  raornin',  before  I  had  my  breakfast. 
1  begin  to  feel  pretty  considerable  peckish,  I  do  assure  you.  Just 
turn  to,  that's  a  good  woman,  and  give  me  one  of  your  rael,  good, 
old-fashioned  breakftists,  and  I'll  be  back  in  half  an  hour  and  bring 
you  comfort,  I  know.' 

"  Well,  oif  I  starts  up  the  back  road  to  old  Jones,  icHs  him  Mrs. 
Lothrop  hadn't  long,  to  live,  and  wanted  to  see  him  right-off, 
bundled  him  into  the  waggon,  flew  like  iled  lightnin'  b'\ck  to  the 
house,  and  marched  him  right  into  the  old  lady's  bed-room.  Well, 
she  began  agin  with  her  lingo,  and  he  answered  her,  and  she  sot  up, 
took  hold  of  his  hand,  kissed  it,  and  made  him  sit  down  on  the  bed 
and  talk  to  her. 

"MVhy,  what  on  earth's  that?"  said  Lothrop. 

" '  Welsh,'  sais  I;  '  don't  you  know  your  mother  left  Wales  when 
she  was  nine  years  old  ?" 

" '  Yes,  I  do,'  sais  he ;  '  but  I've  heard  her  say  over  and  over  agin, 
that  she  didn't  recollect !;.  word  of  Welsh,  and  had  forgot  the  very 
sound  of  it.' 

" '  Well)  you  see  she's  had  a  slight  paralitic  attack,  that's  affected 
her  head.  The  English  is  gone,  and  the  Welsh  has  returned,  and 
there  is  the  eend  of  all  your  long  1  :ckrum  about  owls,  witches  and 
broomsticks.  You  must  get  that  Welshman's  daughter  to  attend 
her.  And  now,  mother,'  sais  I,  tappin'  Mrs.  Lothrop  on  the  shoulder, 
'  now  for  breakfast.  You  never  spoke  a  truer  word  in  your  life,  than 
when  you  said  it  was  John  that  was  bewitched.' " 

"  What  a  curious  story !"  said  Sophy.  "  But,  Mr.  Slick,  what  was 
them  two  words  you  whispered  in  the  old  lady's  ear  ?" 

"  Why,"  sais  I,  "  I  guessed  it  was  old  times  had  come  back  to 
her,  so  to  try  her,  I  whispered  'Brooklin"  in  her  ear,^where  she 
came  to  as  a  child,  and  the  other  word  was  her  father's  name,  'Ap- 
Williams.' " 

"  Now,  you're  making  all  that  story,  I  know  you  are,  just  on  pur- 
pose to  keep  me  here !" 

"  Fact,  I  assure  you,  Miss ;  upon  my  honour,  every  word  of  it's 
true." 

"Well,  then,  all  I  can.  say  is,  it's  the  strangest  thing  I  ever  heerd 
in  my  life.     But,  dear  me,  I  must  be  a  movin' !" 

With  that,  I  jumped  up  on  my  feet,  and  held  out  both  hands. 
"  Let  me  help  you  up.  Miss,"  sais  I,  and  takin'  her's  in  mine,  I 
gave  her  a  lift,  and  afore  she  know'd  what  I  was  at,  she  w.|S  bolt 
upright,  face  to  face  to  me,  and  I  drew  her  in,  and  put  my  head  for- 
ward, close  up.     But  she  bent  back. 

"Ah  !  no,  Mr.  Slick,  that's  not  fair;  it's  not  right. 

"  Just  one  little  kiss/'  said  I, 

"No,  no."  • 

''Not  for  old  times?" 


;; 


w 


;^ir. 


"^■'' 


THE    WITCH     OF    ESKISOONY. 


17* 


I'M 


"IcanV  •.;.=v-;-A-  ■      r  : •   .w:  ^y>^::i,    ' 

"  Not  for  makin' up  ?"  *         :-...-/-, 

"Oh,  we  have  made  up/'  '  '  — 

"Well,  then,  just  to  remember  you  by,  when  I  am  gone  and  far 

away?"  /•.••,,;'-;, /tv, 

But  she  held  off,  and  said,  "  You   have  no  right  to  take   this 

liberty,  Sir/' 
Jist  then  I  felt  a  slap  on  the  back.     "  That's  fly-fishing,  is  it  ?" 

said   Mary.     "  That's   the   tackle   you   explained   to   Jemmy,   for 

catchin'  galls  and  salmon.     Pretty  sport,  aint  it?"  ~    /  v  ^r 

"  Oh,  Mary  !"  said  Sophy,  laughin',  "  How  glad  T  am  you've 
come.  Here  has  Mr.  Slick  been  catchin'  salmon  with  flies,  that  no- 
body else  ever  did  on  this  river,  and  killin'  carriboo  where  no  soul 
ever  saw  'em  afore ;  and  makin'  a  fool  of  me,  which  no  one  ever  tried 
to  do  yet."  .  -    •';■:, 

"  More  fool  you  to  let  him,"  said  Mary.  "  It's  more  than  he 
could  do  with  me^  I  know." 

"  Is  it  ?"  sais  I,  glad  to  have  somethin'  to  say,  for  I  really  did 
feel  foolish.     "It's  a  fair  challenge  that." 

"Yes,"  said  she.  "I'm  not  to  be  taken  in  by  skimmin'  the  fly 
up  the  stream — tip,  tip,  tip ;"  and  she  held  out  her  arm  as  if  trailin' 
the  rod,  and  laughed  a  merry  laugh  that  made  the  woods  ring  agin. 
"  Come,"  said  she,  "  let  me  see  you  catch  a  salmon,  and  then  we'll 
go  up  to  the  house,  for  father  ought  to  be  back  soon  now." 

Well,  I  tried  the  stream,  and  whipt  away  at  it  scientific,  light 
enough  to  tickle  it  amost;  but  it  was  no  go.  The  sun  had  come  out 
too  hot.  The  fish  was  lazy,  or  sarcy,  or  somethin'  or  another,  and  I 
couldn't  raise  one  of  'em. 

"  Pretty  sport,  aint  it  ?"  said  she.  "  If  you  can't  catch  one  fish 
in  an  hour,  how  many  could  you  take  in  a  whole  day  ?  Can  you 
cipher  that  out  ?  Give  me  the  rod ;  I  do  believe  I  could  do  better 
myself." 

"  That's  the  ticket,"  sais  I :  "  that's  jist  what  I  wanted  you  to  do, 
and  why  I  didn't  take  none  myself.  If  you  catch  one,  you  know 
the  penalty.     I  give  you  notice;  you  must  pay  your  footin'." 

"Will  I?"  said  she;  "I'll  teach  you  what  footin' you  are  on 
first,  I  can  tell  you."  But  as  she  said  that,  an  enormous  salmon, 
weighin'  the  matter  of  twelve  pounds  at  least,  took  the  fly,  and  at 
the  ^me  time,  by  the  sudden  jerk,  took  Mary  too  from  off  the  bank 
into  the  deep,  round  pool,  below  where  she  was  standin'.  It  was 
the  work  of  an  instant;  but  in  another  instant  I  follered,  and  as  she 
rose  to  the  surface,  placed  one  arm  round  her  waist,  and  almost  in 
as  short  a  time  as  it  takes  to  tell  it,  was  conveyin'  her  to  her  sister. 
It  was  a  differ  dive,  and  nothin'  more,  hardly  enough  to  take  away 
her  breath.     It  would  take  a  good  deal  more  nor  that,  I  guess,  to 


m 


as 


[f 


mm 


■B»" 


'^mmm^ 


Im 


m 


THE    WITCH    OP    ESKISOONY.V 


frighten  her ;  for  better  ntirves,  and  better  spirits,  I  never  seed  in 
ftU  my  born  days.     She  was  the  most  playful  crittur  I  ever  beheld. 

"  My  !  how  you  skocrcd  rac,  Miss,"  said  I.  "  It  was  all  my 
fault :  I  ought  to  have  cautioned  you." 

*'l  guess  you're  skeercd  in  earnest,"  she  said;  "for  you're 
squeezing  me  as  tight  as  if  I  was  in  the  water  still.  Sit  me  down, 
please." 

"  You  must  pay  you'ro  footin',"  sais  I.  "  That  was  the  bargain, 
you  know." 

"  But  I  haven't  caught  the  fish,"  said  she,  as  quick  as  a  wink, 
and  a  boxin'  of  ray  ears. 

"  But  I've  caught  the  fisher,"  sais  I.  ^ 

"That's  not  fair  now,"  sais  she;  "that's  highway  robbery,  I 
declare.     Well,  then,  take  it,"  sais  she,  "  and  much  good  may  it  do 


>; 


you  ^ 

"  Hullo  !  what  the  dqvil  is  all  this.  Slick  !"  said  the  Captain,  who 
jist  then  came  out  of  the  wood  path,  and  stood  afqjre  us. 

"  Caught  agin  !"  sais  I  to  myself,  as  I  placed  Mary  on  her  feet. 
"  Hang  me  if  ever  I'll  kiss  a  gal  agin  till  I'm  married,  and  I  won'-t 
,1 ,..-.,   then  if  there's  any  chance  of  bein'  seen." 

"I'll  tell  you,  father,"  said  Mary,  "what  it  all  means.  I  fell 
into  the  deep  pool  here,  giddy  pate  as  I  am,  and  Mr.  Slick  jumped 
in  after  me,  and  before  I  almost  knew  where  I  was,  had  me  out,  like 
a  man ;  and  then,  man-fashion — for  men  can't  do  generous  things — 
claimed  his  reward,  and  I  was  just  a  pay  in'  of  him.  I'm  glad  he 
did,  for  now  we  arc  even.  When  a  critter  is  paid  for  his  sarvices, 
,s  there  is  no  obligation." 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  said  her  fiithor,  laughin'.  "  A  man  man  who 
saves  a  young  lady's  life  at  the  risk  of  his  own,  is  entitled  to  a  kiss 
all  the  world  over.  You  may  thank  your  stars  you  had  him  here 
with  you.  Many  a  milksop  of  a  feller  would  have  called  out,  when 
you  were  under  water  and  couldn't  hear,  not  to  be  frightened,  and 
run  backward  and  forward  on  the  bank,  as  flustered  as  a  hen  with  a 
brood  of  young  ducks,  and  held  out  a  stick  to  you,  too  short  for  you 
•  to  reach,  and  told  you  to  lay  hold,  and  he'd  pull  you  out.     Slick, 

I'm  right  glad  to  see  you,  my  boy.     I  take  this  visit  very  kind  of 
you.     Sophy,  make  these  two  cock-a-weo  divin' -birds  go  and  change 
their  clothes  before  they  take  cold.     Here  come  the  boys  with  the 
sled,  and  I  will  see  to  gettin'  the  carriboo  up," 
*■■  "  Come,  Miss  Mary,"  sais  I,  "  I  think  your  father  is  right.    Will 

you  take  a  Jin,  fair  lady?"  sais  I,  oifcrin'  her  an  arm.  ^ 

"  Well,  tho'  you're  an  odd  Jish,  and  did  play  me  that  scale^  trick 
just  now,"  said  she,  "  I  don't  care  if  I  do,  particularly  as  you  can't 
soil  my  dress.  But,  oh,  Mr.  Slick  !"  said  she,  "that  was  a  merciful 
dispensation  of  Providence,  wasn't  it?"  , 

^,  ;;        "Very,"  sais  I.  '  v 


■//' 


THE    WITCH    OF    ESKISOONY, 


173 


"You  ought  to  bo  very  thankful/'  she  said.   >  * 
"I  hope  I  am,"  sais  I,  "for  bein'  an  humble  instrument  in — " 
"  I  dou't  think  you  know  your  own  danger."  i 

"  Danger  !"  sais  I  j  "  I  was  in  no  sort  or  manner  of  danger."    '  ' 
"  Soi)hy,  only  hear  him  how  he  talks,  after  such  a  merciful  escape. 
Oh !  you  ought  to  have  a  thankful  heart,  Sir.     I  was  so  frightened 
about  you,  I  fairly  trembled." 

"  Me  having  had  an  escape  !"  sais  I,  fairly  puzzled,  and  regularly 
took  in,  for  I  didn't  know  what  on  earth  she  was  a  drivin'  at. 

"So  little,"  said  she,  "turns  the  scale  to  good  or  bad  fortune — • 
to  happiness  or  evil.    I  must  say,  I  felt  for  you.    How  near  too,  my 
good  friend,  you  was  havin'  got  it !" 
"  Got  what  ?"  sais  I.     "  Do  teH."  "  ' 

"  A  racl  handsome  quilting,"  sais  she,  "  from  the  old  gentleman, 
and  richly  you  deserved  it  too,  for  kissin'  his  two  daughters  without 
his  leave,  and  agin  their  wishes,  jist  to  see  whose  lips  was  the  sweet- 
est ;"  and  she  fairly  staggered,  she  laughed  so.  "  Do  you  take 
now?"  she  said,  and  then  looking  demure  agin,  went  on  :  "Wasn't 
it  a  merciful  dispensation  ?" 

"Don't  make  so -light  of  those  words,  Mary,  my  dear,"  said 
Sophy ;  "  it  don't  sound  pretty." 
"  You  certainly  had  an  escape,  though,"  said  I. 
"Well,  I  had,"  she  said;  "there's  no  denyin'  of  it.  I  jumped 
in  to  look  after  the  witch  of  Eskisoony,  that  I  heard  was  there ;" 
and  she  gave  Sophy  a  wicked  look  that  made  the  colour  rise  to  her 
cheeks  J  "  but  as  the  old  ballad  we  read  the  other  day  says, 

<"  But  still,  like  the  mermaid  in  stories, 
I  found  it  a  dullish  consarn, 
"With  no  creatures  but  trouts  and  John  Dories,  .., 

To  listen  to  spinning  a  yarn.' 

So  I  just  rose  to  the  surface,  and  took  your  arm,  and  walked  ashore. 
By  the  bye,  Mr.  Slick,  I  hope  you  didn't  wet  your  clock ;  just  see 
if  you  have." 

"  Watch,  you  mean,"  I  said. 

Well,  she  nearly  fell  down,  she  laughed  agin  so  violent. 

"  What  a  mistake  to  make  1  Only  fancy  a  man  with  a  great  big 
clock  in  front,  with  a  large  white  face,  and  two  brass  hands,  and 
Washington  on  a  white  horse  above  it !  What  a  mistake  !  Well, 
perh|j|is  you  have  wet  your  paper-money  ?" 

"I  have  none  in  my  pocket,"  said  I. 

"That's  lucky;  it  will  save  you  the  trouble  of  dryin'  it.  But, 
oh,  my  mouth  !  my  month  !"  and  she  put  up  both  hands  to  it,  and 
moaned  bitterly.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Slick  !  you'll  bo  the  death  of  me  yet ! 
There,"  said  she,  "  oh  !  oh  1  oh  !  Just  stand  still,  you  and  Sophy, 
for  a  few  minutes,  till  the  spasms  arc  over;  for  I  don't  like  people 
15* 


X 


'■% 


/iUNi 


W; 


174 


JERICHO     BEYOND    JORDAN. 


to  look  at  me  when  I  am  in  pain ;"  and  she  walked  on,  holding  down 
her  head,  and  supportin'  her  oheek,  and  groanin'  enough  to  make 
one's  heart  ache,  till  she  was  some  distance  off;  when  down  went 
both  hanc^.s,  and  the  laugh  rang  till  it  echoed  again.  "  You  flattered 
yourself  I  was  hooked,  didn't  you?  Mr.  Slick,  reel  up  your  line; 
You  was  took  in,  and  not  the  little  country  gal  down  to  Jordan  river. 
Good-bye,"  and  off  she  darted  to  the  house. 

"  Reelin'  up  the  line,"  sais  I,  "  puts  mo  in  mind,  Miss  Sophy, 
that  I  had  better  go  and  look  arter  my  rod  and  Mary's  salmon. 
What  a  day  of  adventure  it  has  been  !  But  all's  well  that  eend's 
well ;  and  I  must  say  it's  the  pleasantest  aay  I  ever  spent  in  my 
life.  Don't  you  believe  in  witchcraft  now,  Sophy  ?  for  I  do ;  and 
the  more  I  see  of  one  that  presides  over  Eskisoony,  the  more  I 
am—" 

"  Nonsense  I     Go  and  look  after  your  fishing-rod/'  she  said. 


.  CHAPTER  XVIII. 

JERICHO  BEYOND  JORDAN. 

As  soon  as  I  had  changed  my  clothes,  I  descended  to  the  sittin'- 

'*'    room,  and  not  findin*  the   young  ladies,  I  took  up  my  rifle  and 

...  '  strolled  out  on  the  lawn  in  front  of  the  house,  where  I  met  little 

Jemmy.     Some  books  and  music  that  I  had  found  in  my  bed-room, 

had  awakened  my  curiosity,  and  made  me  feel  kinder  jealous,  so  I 

thought  I  would  pump  the  young  gentleman : 

"  Jemmy,"  says  I,  "  let's  go  and  look  at  the  colts  in  the  pastur'. 
I'll  give  you  a  lecture  on  hoss-flesh.''     As  we  strolled  along,  I  said, 
"who  is  Mr.  Maxwell?" 
.  f'  He  is  the  curate,"  said  he. 

"  Does  he  come  here  often  ?"  • 
*    *'  Oh,  yes.  Sir,  he's  here  a  good  deal;  and  always  stays  here  when 
there's  church  on  the  river." 

"  Going  to  be  married,  aint  he  ?"  sais  I. 

"Folks  say  so,  Sir;  but  I  don't  know." 

Well,  it's  strange ;  all  I  cared  about  was,  whether  it  was  Sophy, 
but  even  to  that  little  boy  I  couldn't  get  out  the  words ;  for  when  a 
feller  don't  half  acknowledge  his  own  secret  to  himself,  he  don't  like 
to  let  another  know  what  is  passiu'  in  his  mind.  So  sais  I,^  It's 
Mary,  isn't  it  ?" 

"They  say  so.  Sir." 

Well,  thinks  I,  that's  a  puzzle.  Men  sometimes,  afore  others, 
pretend  to  court  the  wrong  one,  to  put  folks  off  the  scent;  so  I  aint 
much  wiser. 


JERICHO     BEYOND    JORDAN. 


171^^ 


"Well,  what  does  papa  say  to  all  this?" 

"Why,  Sir,  he  sais  'they  must  wait  till  he  gets  a  church  to 
himself.'  " 

Well,  that's  a  load  olDf  my  mind,  thinks  I;  that  accounts  for  her 
onresarved  manner.  She  knows  her  free  and  easy  way  wont  be  set 
down  to  wrong  motives.  High  spirits  in  a  gall  is  dangerous  things, 
that's  a  fact.  It's  lucky  she  lives  in  the  country;  but  then  I  do 
suppose  in  a  town  she  would  soon  be  halter-broke,  and  travel  more 
steadily,  and  not  prance  so  much.  What  on  earth  do  you  suppose 
could  make  a  minister  pick  out  such  a  playful,  rollickin',  frollickin' 
critter  as  that  for  a  wife  ?  But  Sophy — come  out  with  it — ask  the 
boy  about  her. 

"Well,  Sophy,"  sais  I,  "is  she  goin'  to  bo  married,  too?  I  hope 
not,  for  your  father  would  be  dreadful  lonely  here,  with  only  Aunt 
Thankful  to  keep  house  for  him." 

"  No,  Sir,"  said  Jemmy,  "  I  guess  not ;  I  don't  think  it.  There 
was  an  army  officer  here  this  time  last  year." 

"  The  devil  there  was  !"  sais  I.  "  Stop,  Jemmy,"  for  I  felt  savi- 
gerous,  and  wanted  to  see  if  ray  hand  was  in.  "  Do  you  see  that 
red-coated  rascal  of  a  squirrel  there  ?  Where  shall  I  hit  him  ?  I'll 
scalp  him,"  And  I  fired,  and  just  stripped  up  the  skin  of  his  fore- 
head. "  Warn't  that  prettily  done,  Jemmy  ?  Didn't  I  spile  that 
officer's  courtin'  for  him,  that  hitch  ?" 

"  What  oificer.  Sir?"  .       ,*..;« 

"  Captain  Squirrel." 

"That  wasn't  his  name,  Sir.     It  was  Captain  Tyrrell." 

"Oh,  I  only  meant  to  joke  about  this  little  varmint,"  sais  Ij 
"it's  the  way  all  friskin',  chatterin',  dancin'  fellers  like  them  should 
be  sarved.  I  warn't  talkin'  of  an  officer.  Well,  what  did  the 
C-iptin  do  ?" 

"  Well,  he  wanted  to  marry  our  Sophy ;  and  he  got  aunty  on  his 
side,  and  father  consented,  and  Mary  coaxed,  but  Sophy  wouldn't 
hear  to  it  on  no  account,  and "   , 

"Gave  him  the  mitten,"  sais  I,  laughin'. 

"What's  that.  Sir?" 

"  Why,  my  boy,  when  I'm  cordial  with  a  feller,  I  take  off  the 
mitten,  and  shake  hands  with  him ;  when  I  ain't,  I  don't  take  the 
trouble,  but  just  give  him  the  mitten.  Sophy  is  a  sensible  girl," 
sais  I. 

"  So  Mr.  Maxwell  said,  Sir.  But  he's  the  only  one  among  'em 
thinks  so." 

"  What  the  deuce  has  he  got  to  do  with  Sophy  ?" 

"  Why,  Sir,  he  said  somethin'  about  bein'  dragged  from  Dan  to 
Beersheba,  but  I  didn't  understand  it."  Just  then  the  shell  blew 
to  summon  us  to  dinner.  Well,  I  felt  now  considerable  easy  in  my 
mind,  and  took  a  great  likin'  to  the  boy,  and  began,  all  at  once,  to 


%:: 


17G 


JERIOIIO    BEYOND     JO  11  DAN. 


\ 


feel  oncominon  generous.  I  told  him  I  Lad  a  beautiful  little  single- 
barrel  partridge  gun  on  board  that  I  would  give  him,  and  a  powder- 
flask  and  shot-belt,  and  that  he  must  learn  to  shoot,  for  it  was  a 
groat  thing  to  be  a  good  marksman.  There's  nothin'  like  bein'  the 
bearer  of  good  news.  A  feller  that  rides  express  with  that  is  always 
well  received.  If  you  carry  misfortunato  tidin's  to  a  man,  he  always 
looks  at  you  arterwards  with  a  shudder.  It's  strange  that  your 
friends,  tho',  like  the  last  job  the  best.  They  are  amazin'  kind  in 
tellin'  unkind  things  that  has  been  said  of  you.  Well,  after  dinner 
was  over,  and  we  returned  to  the  sittin'-room,  the  captin  havin'  asked 
to  be  excused  for  a  few  minutes  to  issue  some  indispensable  orders  to 
his  men,  I  was  left  alone  again  with  my  two  young  friends. 

What  I  am  goin'  to  set  down  here,  squire,  don't  show  me  to 
advantage,  that's  a  fact ;  but  what  in  tho  world's  the  use  of  a  false 
journal  ?  Who  would  read  it  if  ho  doubted  it  ?  I  know  people  say 
I  praise  myself  in  my  books,  and  crack  them  up  too,  and  call  me 
consaited,  and  say  I'm  a  bit  of  a  brag,  and  all  that.  Well,  I  won't 
say  I  aint  open  to  that  charge,  for  boastin'  comes  as  natural  to  us 
Yankees  as  seratchin'  does  to  Scotchmen — it's  in  tho  bl  1.  But  if 
I  miss  a  figure  sometimes  (and  who  don't  when  he  totc^  up  a  long 
column  of  life  ?)  I'm  willin'  to  say  so.  We  find  it  easy  enough  to 
direct  others  to  the  ri<j]it  road^  hut  wc  can't  always  find  it  ourselves 
when  ivc're  on  the  (jround.  We  can  see  plain  enough  when  our 
acquaintances  want  advice,  but  wc  aint  so  clear-sighted  in  our  own 
case.  If  ever  you  was  bilious,  you've  noticed  little  black  specks  a 
floatin'  about  in  the  air  before  you  just  like  gnats,  and  a  very  bo- 
therin'  thing  it  is.  You  rub  your  peepers  hard,  and  take  a  kind  of 
strain  with  them  to  get  rid  of  the  nuisance,  but  it's  no  go ;  and  you 
try  cold  applications  to  them,  but  it  don't  do  no  good.  It  aint  the 
eye,  it's  the  stomach  that's  wrong.  Well  now,  them  specks  are  to 
be  found  in  the  mind's  eye,  too.  They  are  pride,  consait,  avarice, 
spoonyness,  rivalry,  and  all  sorts  of  black  things,  and  the  mental 
vision's  obscured.  It  isn't  that  the  mind  aint  strong,  but  that  it  aint 
well  regulated.  I  don't  know  whether  you  will  take  my  meanin'  or 
not,  for  it  aint  just  easy  to  describe  it.  The  fact  is,  I'm  lookin'  out 
for  a  wife,  and  courtin'  is  new  to  me ;  and  if  I  move  awkward,  I 
suppose  I  aint  the  first,  by  a  long  chalk,  that's  felt  the  want  of  a 
dancin'-master. 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  said  Mary,  "  there  is  one  thing  I  forgot  to  ask  you." 
"What  is  that?"  said  I.     " Come,  pop  the  question." 
"Are  you  married  since  we  saw  you?'^  "'• 

"Well,"  sais  I,  "you  little  dear,  I  should  have  thought  it  a 
strange  question,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  what  I  had  heard  from 
Jemmy." 

I  cast  a  sly  look  at  Sophy  to  sen  if  she  took  any  interest  in  the 
answer;  but  she  was  bufiy  with  some  crotchet  work,  and  jist  then 


W'Jf  HP 


J 


JERIOnO    BEYOND    JORDAN. 


1 


h 


had  to  look  close  down  to  it  to  take  up  a  stitch  that  was  dropped. 
There's  no  gettin*  a  look  at  a  gcall's  face  when  tho  right  time  to  read 
it  comes,  that's  a  fact.  When  you  do  read  it,  you  want  tho  light  of 
tho  two  oycs,  like  two  candles,  to  show  tho  text  and  study  tho  (Con- 
text. Somehow  they  do  manage  to  throw  'em  in  tho  shade  like 
exactly  at  that  time,  so  that  all  you  can  do  is  to  guess.  Concealment 
is  r/itilt.     Hidin'  tliouyhts,  like  hidin'  tliimjs,  shows  there's  a  secret. 

"Well,"  sais  I,  "it's  a  very  nateral  question  for  you  to  ask;  and, 
now  I  think  on  it,  I  ought  to  have  told  you  before,  especially  arter 
all  that  has  passed.     Guess  now,  am  I  spliced  or  not  ?" 

"Kinder  sort  of  so,"  said  she,  "and  kinder  sort  of  not  so.  It 
looks  as  if  you  were  married,  seein'  that  you  can  afford  to  be  impu- 
dent; and  it  looks  as  if  you  wasn't  married,  seein'  that  you  think 
more  of  yourself — " 

"Than  anybody  else  does,"  sais  I;  "finish  tho  sentence  out.  Well 
done,  Miss !  I  reckon  you  can  afford  something  as  well  as  others 
can." 

"I  wasn't  a-goin'  to  say  that,"  she  replied,  "I  was  goin'  to  say 
"'more  than  you  think  of  others.'" 

Sophy  worked  hard  but  said  nothin',  but  I  consaited  she  didn't 
work  quite  as  fast  as  before. 

"Well,  Mary,"  said  I,  "you've  guessed  right  this  time.  You've 
actilly  hit  it;  somebody  must  have  told  you." 

"Hit  what?"  said  she,  "I  haven't  guessed  nothin'."  .(;; 

"  Guess  agin'  then,"  said  I. 

"No  I  won't,"  she  said,  "it  aint  worth  guessin';  it's  nothin'  to 


me. 


}} 


"  Nor  to  me  either,"  said  I,  "  so  we'll  drop  a  subject  no  one  wants 
to  talk  about.  They  tell  mo  the  young  curate  is  a  very  nice  man, 
that  came  here  lately,  and  that  he  sings  like  a  nightingale  ,;,. 

"  *  Meet  me  by  moonliglit  alone, 
And  then  I  will  tell  tliee  a  tale.' 

I  saw  that  song  of  his  on  the  table  in  my  room  up-stairs.  Come, 
sing  it  with  me,  unless  you  caught  cold  to-day.  I'll  talk  to  you 
about  him,  it's  a  subject  that  will  interest  one  of  us  at  any  rate.  Oh ! 
Sophy,  don't  tell  him  about  that  dip  in  the  pool." 

"Come,"  said  she,  "Mr.  Slick,  come,  you're  not  a-goin'  to  put  me 
off  with  any  such  nonsense  about  the  curate  and  his  songs,"  and  she 
got  behind  my  chair. 

^omethin'  to  hide  there,  sais  I  to  myself,  a  blush  that  tells  tales, 
a  confusion  that  confounds,  a  surprise  that's  too  quick  to  be  checked. 

"How  damp  your  hair  is,  Mr.iSlick,"  she  said,  pattin'  it;  "come 
now,  give  a  civil  answer  to  a  civil  question." 

She  was  not  aware  that  tliat  posture  brought  her  before  a  large 
looking-glass  that  filled  nearly  all  the  space  between  the  two  windows. 


BHHH 


178 


JERICHO     BEYOND    JORDAN./'' 


I 


t: 


m 


mW 


i'.''/'' 


Ilcr  face  was  covered  with  blushes  of  the  dcopcHt  dye,  and  as  Sophy 
looked  up,  I  saw  by  the  motions  of  her  arm  in  the  glass  that  she 
was  shakiu'  her  little  fist  at  her. 

"Well,  sais  I,  "Miss,  1  thought  it  was  high  timo  some  one  should 
take  charge  of  things,  so  I  jist  made  up  my  mind  at  onst,  and  took 
a  mate;  and  this  I  will  say,  a  handsomer  one  is  not  to  bo  found  any- 
where. I  was  jist  a-goin'  to  ask  leave  of  your  father  to  go  on  board 
for  the  purpose  of  an  introduction." 

'<  Why,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  Mary,  "you  flirtin',  rompin',  rollickin, 
nauffhty  man.  Is  that  the  way  you're  goin'  to  break  your  poor  dear 
handsome  little  wife's  heart,  and  make  it  thump  like  a  clock 
Btrikin'  V 

Sophy  placed  her  nettin'  and  both  her  hands  in  her  lap,  and 
lookin'  up  considerable  composedly,  but  a  little  grain  paler  than  be- 
fore, said:  "There  was  no  occasion  for  all  this  ceremony,  Mr.  Slick; 
if  you  think  we  are  only  glad  to  see  our  single  friends,  you  form  a 
wrong  estimate  of  us.  We  are  always  delighted  to  receive  both, 
Sir." 

That  word  Sir,  the  way  she  pronounced  it,  was  like  apple-sarco 
to  the  goose,  not  a  bad  accompaniment,  and  to  be  taken  together 
arter  that. 

"  Mary,  tell  father  Mr.  Slick  is  married,  and  has  his  wife  on  board, 
and  if  he  will  come  with  us,  we'll  go  down  and  invito  her  up.  This 
is  quite  an  onexpccted  pleasure,  Sir."  But  the  Sir  this  time  had 
more  of  the  tart  in  it,  like  cranberry  sarce. 

"  Mary,"  sais  I,  "  what  in  the  world  are  you  at  ?  are  you  a-goin' 
to  break  my  heart  ?  are  you  tryin'  to  drive  me  mad  ?  Tell  your 
father  no  such  a  thing.  I  not  only  never  said  I  was  married,,  but 
didn't  oven  say  there  was  a  woman  on  board.  I  said  I  had  a  mate 
there,  and  so  I  have,  and  a  rael  handsome  one  too,  and  so  ho  is,  for 
he's  the  handsomest  man  in  the  American  marchant  sarvice." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Slick!"  said  Mary,  "not  married  arter  all!  Well,  I 
declare  if  that  aint  too  bad  !     Oh  !  how  sorry  I  am  !" 

"  Why  so,  dear  ?"  sais  I. 

"  Because  I  was  a-goin'  to  set  on  the  old  gentleman's  knee,  put 
my  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  give  him  a  kiss  to  tell  mo  a  story." 

"Why,  Mary!"  said  Sophy. 

"Fact,  dear,"  she  replied;  "I'll  never  take  any  more  interest  in 
him.  He's  the  most  forred,  consaited,  bewhiskered,  and  bebearded 
Yankee  doodle-dandy  I  ever  saw. 

As  she  was  passin'  out  of  the  room,  I  anticipated  her  by  steppin' 
before  her,  and  placin'  my  back  toihe  door. 

"  So  that's  the  way  you  sarvn  the  curate,"  sais  I.  "  When  he 
reads  the  words  from  the  book,  '  dearly  beloved,'  don't  they  sound 
musical  ?" 


m 


JERIOUO    BKYOND    JO  II  DAN. 


179 


And  then  I  sang  her  the  verso  of  another  song  •  t 

■■  ^ . ' 
•• '  Oh  I  my  heart,  my  hcfirt  ia  breaking        i      ..    ,■'■'■. 
For  tho  lovo  of  Alice  drey.'"  f*'^\-:    v       r  ., 

I  saw  it  among  tho  old  music  on  my  table. 

There's  no  pinniu'  up  a  woman  in  a  corner,  unless  she  wants  to  bo 
caught — that's  a  fact  —  and  have  tho  bridle  put  on.  So  sho  just 
edged  to  tho  open  window,  and  out  in  no  time.  ... 

Instead  of  returnin'  to  my  seat,  I  sat  down  by  Sophy. 

"What  a  lively,  merry  little  thing  your  sister  is?"  said  I.  "I 
hope  sho  will  bo  happy." 

"She  is  happy." 

"  Yes,  but  I  hope  she  will  bo  happy  with  tho  curate." 

"  Who  told  you  that  gossipin'  story?"  she  said. 

"  Tho  same  person,"  said  I,  "  that  informed  mo  about  tho  witch 
of  Eskisoony." 

"  In  tho  first,"  sho  said,  "  there  may  be  somethin',  in  the  last 
nothin';  and  I  shall  feel  obliged  by  your  not  mentionin*  either 
before  my  father.  Nicknames  stick  to  people^  and  the  most  ridicu- 
lous are  the  most  adhesive.'* 

"  Sophy  I"  said  I,  tryin*  to  take  her  hand. 

"  Don't  you  see  I  am  nettin'  ?"  she  said ;  "and  that  requires  both 
hands.    You're  not  a-goin'  to  take  leave  so  soon  j  are  you  ?" 

"Take  leave  V  said  I;  "  no,  what  put  that  into  your  head." 

"Well  then,"  she  said,  "what's  the  use  of  shakiu'  hands  till 
then  ?"  and  sho  looked  up  and  smiled,  and  left  out  the  word  Sivy 
and  its  vinegary  sound. 

After  a  second  or  two,  she  laid  her  nettin'  down  on  her  lap,  and 
laughed  like  any  thin'. 

"  How  completely  you  took  in  Mary  !"  said  she ;  "  didn't  you  ?" 

"  Was  you  taken  in  ?"  sais  I,  "  Sophy,  dear,"  and  I  slipped  her 
hand  into  mine,  and  she  left  it  there. 

She  did't  lay  down  her  nettin'  on  purpose  that  I  should  take  what 
she  didn't  appear  to  give.  Oh !  of  course  not,  that  wouldn't  be 
natur'. 

"  Here's  father,"  said  she,  drawin'  back  her  hand  gently,  goin'  on 
again  with  the  nettin',  and  just  shovin'  her  chair  a  little  further  oflf, 
by  accident  like,  as  she  stooped  to  pick  up  her  handkerchief;  "per- 
haps he  will  go  for  your  mate." 

Well  it  was  vexatious — that's  a  fact. 

"I  wish,"  sais  I,  "that  all  the  fathers,  brothers,  sisters,  and 
mates  in  the  univarsal  world  were  in  the  North  Pole." 

She  had  just  time  to  look  up  and  smile. 

And  oh  !  what  a  sight  there  is  in  that  word — smile — for  it  changes 
colour  like  a  cameleon.  There's  a  vacant  smile,  a  cold  smile,  a  satirio 
smile,  a  smilo  of  hate,  an  affected  smile,  a  smile  of  approbation,  a 


^Pi 


i- 1 


i';r. 


180 


JERICHO    BEYOND    J01lDA^f. 


/■* 


V 


friendly  smile,  but,  above  all,  a  smile  of  love.  A  woman  has  two 
smiles  that  an  amjtl  might  envy,  the  smile  that  accepts  the  lover  afore 
words  are  uttered,  and  the  smile  that  lijhts  on  the  first-born  bahy, 
and  assures  him  of  a  mother's  love. 

Sophy  had  just  time  to  look  up  and  smile,  when  he  came  in. 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  '•'  what  do  you  say  to  a  walk  up  to  the 
mill  ?  I  shall  have  to  be  absent  for  about  an  hour  on  business  there, 
and  it  must  be  dull  music  here  for  you/' 

I  believe  every  created  crittur  in  the  world  thinks  that  he's  the 
most  entertainin'  one  on  it,  and  that  there's  no  gettin'  on  anyhow 
without  him.  Consait  grows  as  nateral  as  the  hair  on  one's  head, 
hut  is  longer  in  comin'  out. 

"Dull!"  sais  I.  "Quite  the  revarse,  I  assure  you.  Barrin'  the 
loss  of  your  company,  I  have  had  a  most  delightful  day  here,  with  the 
young  ladies.  Will  you  let  me  ask  the  Captin  up  this  evening'  ? 
He's  as  fine  a  young  fellow  as  you  ever  see  amost." 

"  Certainly,"  said  he,  "and  any  one  else  on  board  that  you  please ; 
and  now  I  must  be  a-movin',  and  will  be  back  as  soon  as  possible.' 

Thinks  I  to  myself:  Sam,  you'd  better  be  a-movin'  too.  You're 
gettin'  over  head  and  ears  in  love  as  fast  as  you  can,  and  are  as  soft 
as  if  you  never  seed  a  gall  afore.     So  sais  I : 

"  Sophy,  sposin'  Mary  and  you  and  I  take  a  walk  down  to  the 
beach,  and  I  will  send  a  note  on  board  to  the  Captin." 

And  1  took  out  a  pencil,  and  wrote  him  an  invite.  Well,  as  soon 
as  she  went  to  get  ready,  I  calld.  ;  council  of  war,  and  held  a  regular 
caucus  meetin'  between  ray  head  and  my  heart.  So  I  puts  my  elbows 
on  the  table,  and  claps  my  face  in  my  hands,  and  opened  the  session. 
*'  Sam,"  sais  I,  "  what  do  you  think  of  this  gall  'i 

"  She's  handsome  enough  to  eat. 

"  Will  she  do  for  transplantin'  to  Slickville  ? 

"  The  identical  thing. 

"  What  do  you  intend  to  do  ? 

"  Well,  that's  exactly  what  -  want  to  know. 

"  Will  she  take  you  ? 

"  It's  more  than  I  can  tell. 

"  You  aint  a  Jjluenose. 

"  I  am  glad  of  it, 

"You're  a  clock  maker. 

"  T  aint  ashamed  of  it;  and  if  she  is,  she's  a  fool. 

"You  aint  young. 

"  That's  a  fact. 

"  Not  much  looks  to  brag  on. 

"  That's  true. 

''  And  talk  Yankee  into  the  bargin. 

"I  can't  help  it. 

"Well,  you've  wrote  books. 


JERICnO    BEYOND    JORDAN, 


mil 


./,"/■' 


3  in. 

up  to  the 

less  there, 

;  he's  the 
n  anyhow 
ne's  head, 

Barrln'  the 
e,  with  the 
evening'  ? 

rou  please ; 
possible.' 
0.     You're 
.  are  as  soft 

own  to  the 


"  Let  her  take  the  books  then,  and  leave  me.   •'■  ■ 

K  But  aint  she  the  finest  gall  you  ever  did  lay  eyes  on  ? 

"  Well,  she  is.  ... 

"  And  the  sweetest  ?  '  ■  '  C' 

"Lick!!  - 

"And*  modest,  and  all  that?  .  ..  • 

"Yes,  all  that,  and  the  double  of  that  multiplied  by  ten. 

"  Up  then,  and  at  her  like  a  man. 

"  What,  give*  up  all  my  prudence  ?  Offer  on  half  a  day's  ac- 
quaintance, and  have  all  the  rest  of  my  life  to  find  out  her  faults. 
Women  aint  bosses,  and  they  want  to  be  put  thro'  their  paces,  and 
have  their  wind  tried.  If  I'm  took  in,  it  will  be  myself  that  did  it; 
and  that  aint  like  Sara  Slick,  is  it  ? 

"  Well,  it  aint,  that's  a  fact. 

"  What  a  cussed  thing  lovn  is  !  It  puts  you  in  a  twitteration  all 
over  just  when  you  ought  to  be  cool,  and  turns  a  wise  man  into  a 
born  fool.  Shop  on  it.  You've  just  hit  it,  sais  I.  Now  you  talk 
sense;  you're  gettiu'  to  bn  yourself  agin.  Sposen  she  falls  in  love 
with  the  handsome  Ouptin.' 

Tliat  thought  ser.t  all  the  blood  in  my  body  to  my  heart,  until  it 
nearly  bust,  and,  forgetlin'  that  I  was  talLiu'  to  myself,  I  struck  the 
table  with  my  fist,  iiud  ript  right  out : 

"By  the  tarnal,  I'll  throw  him  overboard,  or  cut  him  up  for 
iiiai'karel-bait,  1  will  by — " 

"Why,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  Sophy,  just  then  tappin'  me  on  the 
shoulder,  "what  on  earth  is  the  matter?  How  dreadfully  pale  you 
look  I     I'm  quite  frightened  !     What  is  it?" 

"  Nothin',"  sais  I,  "  dear,  but  an  affection  of  the  heart." 

"Are  you  subject  to  :t?"  said  she. 

I  throw  all  the  expression  I  could  into  my  eyes — but  I  guess  they 
looked  more  like  those  of  a  boiled  codfif>li,  than  anythin'  else,  for 
there  was  no  blood  circulatin'  in  my  head — and  gave  her  as  sweet  a 
look  as  I  could,  tho'  I  have  no  doubt  it  looked  like  that  of  a  dyin' 
calf. 

"  No,"  sais  I,  "  Sophy,  I  never  knew  what  that  was  till  tliu  day. 
I  feel  better  now." 

"Take  this,"  she  said,  pourin'  out  a  tumbler  of  cold  water,  *'it 
will  do  you  good.     It  will  soon  puss  off." 

Oh,  how  hoppin'  mad  that  madn  me !  I  didn't  observe  that  a 
feller  that's  courtin's  as  blind  as  a  bat — and  I  didn't  notice  that  she 
tlidu't  take  the  pint.  The  fact  is,  she  was  too  frightened ;  so,^sai8 
I,  "Oh,  by  all  means,  Bliss  Tyrrel  —  wood,  there's  nothin'  lika 
throwin'  cold  v/ater  on  it !  When  a  man's  too  ardent,  there's 
nothin'  like  icin'  him  down  to  the  right  pint !" 

"  Why,  what's  this?"  said  ^lary,  who  came  in  now,  ready  for  II 
walk  to  tho  shore.     "  ►^-pby;  what  on  uirth's  the  matter ?" 
.10 


i- 


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n 


I  i  m 


JERICHO    BEYOND    JORDAN.         v 

«  Can't  tell,"  she  said.  "  All  T  know  is,  Mr.  Slick  is  very  ill, 
and  I'm  very  much  frightened.     I  wish  papa  was  here." 

"  Mary,  dear/'  suis  I,  "  1 11  explain  it  all  to  you.  I've  been  an 
invalid  lately  :  it's  that  that's  caused  me  to  travel,  and  not  business ; 
for  I've  more  means  than  I  can  make  a  good  use  of."  (I  thought 
I'd  just  throw  in  by  accident  like,  that  hint  about  means,  for  money 
aint  Scotcb-snuff,  it  never  makes  folks  sneeze.)  "And  I  didn't 
know  that  I  was  as  weak  as  I  am.  The  excitement  has  been  too 
much  for  me.  I'm  a  calm  man  in  a  general  way ;  but  I  never  had 
so  delightful  a  day  as  this  in  my  life.  I  have  had  both  head  and 
heart  turned,  and  have  suffered  for  it !  But  as  I  shall  never  see 
such  another  day  while  I  live,  so  I  shall  never  suffer  that  same  way. 
I  thought  my  heart  would  bust ;  but  it's  all  over  now.  I  feel  the 
blood  comin'  back  to  my  face.  I'll  take  another  dose  of  Soph/s 
prescription,"  (fillin'  out  another  tumbler  of  cold  water,  and  drinkin' 
it  off).     ''  And  now,  fair  ladies,  I'm  at  your  service  for  a  walk."  . 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Slick,"  said  Mary,  "  it's  all  ray  doins  !  It  all  cornea 
from  divin'  into  the  river  after  me,  and  it  has  brought  on  an  ague. 
You're  actilly  tremblin'  now  !" 

•*I  assure  you,  Miss,"  sais  I,  "you  had  no  hand  in  it  whatever. 
London  life  has  made  me  forget  what  I  was,  and  what  I  am,  what  I 
can  do,  and  what  I  can't." 

I  cast  my  eye  sideways  towards  Sophy,  and  I  saw  a  new  light 
was  breaking  in  upon  her,  for  a  little  comin'  and  goin'  of  colour,  and 
a  restless  eye,  showed  she  was  thinkin'  and  feelin'  too,  so,  sais  I, 
"now  ladies 3"  and  we  set  off  to  saunter  to  the  beach. 

"  I  ought  to  have  thought  of  the  Captin  before,"  I  said,  "  but 
that  comes  of  bein'  selfish,  and,  perhaps,  who  knows,  a  little  jeal- 
ous, for  I  wanted  to  have  you  all  to  myself,  and  he  is  the  finest 
feller  I  ever  saw.  His  father  was  a  clergyman,  and  he  is  a  scholar 
and  a  gentleman,  and  far  above  the  condition  in  life  he  is  in ;  better 
informed,  better  lookin',  and  in  every  way  superior  to  a  travellin' 
clock.uaker  like  me ;"  and  I  spoke  that  word  bitterly.  "  I'll  pro- 
mise him,  Sophy,  neither  to  throw  him  f)verboard,  or  cut  him  into 
bait  for  mackerel  now ;  that  foolish  and  wicked  thought  is  gone  for 
ever.     I  think  you'll  like  him." 

"  Not  if  he  talks  as  bitterly  as  you  do,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  she  whose 
arm  I  felt  tremblin'  inside  of  mine. 

"  And  now,  ladies,  I've  a  little  pet  scheme  in  my  head." 

"To  help  you  cut  him  up  for  bait,  I  suppose?"  said  Sophy, 
"WRatashockin'idca!" 

"Mr.  Slick,"  said  Mary^,  "I  wouldn't  marry  you  for  the  world." 

"  You're  not  the  only  one  that  wouldn't,"  said  I,  pressin'  Sophy's 

arm.     ''But  what  'lave  I  done  to  be  rejected  before  I  asked  you? 

That  aint  a  maicitul  usu  of  beauty,  is  it  Sophy  ?     If  I  was  to  tell 


JTIRICIIO    BEYOND    JORDAN.  raBfli 

her  that  I  had  a  little  cUurch  of  my  own,  perhaps  she'd  think  kinder 
of  me." 

Hut  Mary  prctendin'  not  to  hear  mo  saved  her  the  reply,  by  goin'  on : 

''  Because  you  arc  jealous." 

"  You  don't  know  me,  Miss,  or  you  wouldn't  say  that.  I  never 
saw  Mr.  Maxwell,  therefore  how  can  1  be  jealous  ?'' 

She  looked  inquirinly  at  Sophy,  to  ascertain  if  she  had  betrayed 
her,  and  I  went  on. 

"  I  never  knew  what  love  was  but  once,  and  I  hope  I  never  shall 
agin ;  and  to  keep  out  of  the  scrape  I  never  will  even  talk  of  it. 
So  I  can't  be  jealous.  But  now  that  you  see  what  a  safe  man  I  am, 
I  hope  you  will  both  help  rac  to  carry  out  my  pet  scheme,  and  you 
must  help  me  soon,  or  it  will  be  too  late,  for  I  embark  to-night,  or 
at  day  dawn  in  the  mornin'.  Twant  your  father  to  come  and  visit 
us  at  Slickville,  and  bring  you  both  with  him  (not  to  visit  me,  I 
have  no  such  vanity,  but  my  sister  Sally,  the  dearest,  the  sweetest, 
best  sister  man  ever  had).  Now  don't  say  no,  Sophy.  Tho'  I 
won't  make  love,  and  render  myself  ridiculous,  and  persecute  others, 
I  can  make  a  visit  pleasant  to  you  both,  and  will  go  everythin'  in  my 
power  to  do  so.     What  do  you  say  ?" 

"  If  my  father  will  go  I  should  like  to  see  the  States  very  much," 
she  replied;  "but  I'm  afraid  there  might  bo  some  difficulty." 

"Oh!  I  understand,"  sais  I,  "about  the  curaie.  The  invitation 
shall  include  him  too."  , 

"Oh!  Mr.  Slick,"  said  Mary,  "how  very  kind!  I  shall  be 
delighted.  Come,  sit  down  here  on  this  bench.  Give  me  the  note. 
I  will  give  it  to  that  boy  that's  gettin'  into  the  boat;  and,  Mr. 
Slick,  coax  Sophy  out  of  her  difficulties.     She's  a  great  prude." 

Pausin'  a  moment,  and  lookin'  earnest  at  us  both,  she  said  : 

"There's  a  screw  loose  between  you  two.  Put  it  right,  Mr. 
Slick;  and  if  you  can't,  give  her  another  lesson  in  fly-fishin'." 

And  away  she  flew,  as  merry  and  as  light-hearted  as  a  bird. 

"  Sophy,"  said  I,  "I'm  glad  to  have  an  opportunity  to  beg  pardon 
for  my  rudeness.  The  excitement  of  tho  mornin',  and  the  thought 
of  partin'  this  evenin,'  upsot  me,  and  I  hardly  knew  what  I  said  or 
did." 

"  Mr.  Slick,  I  will  not  be  prudish,"  said  she.  "  I  really  did  mis- 
understand the  nature  of  ycur  complaint,"  and  she  smiled,  "  that 
caused  you  to  say  what  you  did.  Now  I  comprehend  it  all.  The 
struggle  you  was  undergoin'  did  great  credit  to  your  feelins'." 

"We  are  friends  again,  I  hope — good  friends  —  warm  friends. 
And — "  sais  I. 

"And,"  said  she,  looking  me  steadily  in  the  face,  "attached 
friends*' 

Thinks  I  to  myself:  Take  what  you  can  got,  Sam.  If  you  go  in 
for  more,  you  may  lose  all.     "  Now  for  the  visit." 


•  f' 


JERICHO    BEYOND    JORDAN. 

".Mr.  Slick,  knowia*  what  I  do  know,  there's  ^u  delicacy  that 
makes  the  difficulty  almost  insurmountable.'^ 

"  I'll  remove  that,"  sais  I,  "  at  ouce.  I  will  never  mention,  or  so 
much  as  allude  to,  what  has  taken  place  to-day,  durin'  your  whole 
visit  to  Slickville.  It  would  have  been  unkind,  and  unfair,  and 
inhospitable."  ' 

*'  That's  very  handsome.  Sir,"  she  said.  ''  I'll  answer  for  my 
father.  We  shall  have  great  pleasure  in  goiu*.  Fix  the  time  with 
him.     Here's  Mary." 

"  Mary !"  sais  I,  lookin'  at  Sophy.  "  Don't  she  look  more  beau- 
tiful than  ever,  now  she  has  done  a  gracious  thing.  She  has  con- 
sented to  come  to  Slickville." 

"Ah!"  she  said,  "that's  fly-fishin'.  There's  nothin'  like  flj- 
fishin',  is  there,  Sophy  ?" 

"  There  was  nothin'  like  fly-fishin',  I  can  assure  you." 
"  Oh !  of  course  not.     He   don't  know  how,  and  you  arc  too 
prudish  to  show  him.     I  never  was  so  happy  in  all  my  life.     I 
shan't  sleep  a  wink  to-night  for  thinkin'  of  Slickville.     Will  you, 
Sophy  r' 

"  I  hope  so,  dear.     I  know  of  nothin'  to  keep  me  awake." 
"  Nor  I  either,"   said   I,  "  except  the  mortification  that  Mary 
refused  me  before  she  was  asked." 
In  this  way,  we  entered  the  house. 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  said  Mary,  bringin'  me  a  sheet  of  paper,  "  give  me 
some  idea  of  the  kind  of  lookin'  place  yours  is  at  Slickville,  for  it 
will  often  be  the  subject  of  my  thoughts  and  dreams." 

"  I  have  my  sketch-book  with  me  up-stairs,  and  everythin'  that 
interests  me  is  there.     I  will  go  and  get  it," 

When  I  returned,  I  found  my  old  friend,  Aunt  Thankful,  the 
eldest  sister  of  Mr.  Collingwood,  had  joined  the  party.  I  had  not 
seen  her  since  my  arrival  at  the  house,  but  she  seemed  to  me  the 
only  unaltered  person  in  it.  Younger  she  couldn't  be  in  the  natur' 
of  things,  but  she  wap.  not  a  day  older,  and  was  dressed  in  the  same 
antiquated  style  as  when  I  last  saw  her.  She  asked  me  the  same 
questions  as  of  old.  She  inquired  how  poor  father  and  mother,  and 
dear  old  Minister  was.  Well,  they  were  all  dead,  and  I  didn't  like 
to  shock  her,  and  I  told  her  they  were  quite  well  when  I  last  saw 
them.  It  distressed  me  dreadful,  and  the  poor  girls  hung  their 
heads  and  were  distressed,  too.  Well,  I  sheered  off  as  soon  as  1 
could,  and  opened  the  portfolio. 

"Oh,  Sophy,  look  here  !"  said  Mary,  "  isn't  this  a  beautiful  place? 
What  lovely  grounds  you  have  !  —  they  are  so  extensive !  How 
much  money  they  nmst  have  cost !" 

"  I.  Icaruod  the  value  of  time,  dear,  b^'  monsiirin'  himrs  and  minutes 

80  accurately.     I  worked  for  it,  and  tlio  broad  of  industry  is  sweet." 

"  Let  me  look  at  \^,"  said  Aunt  Thankful,  and  she  put  on  her 


"■  f' 


JERICHO    BEYOND    JORDAN. 


i^ 


ioacy  that 

tion,  or  so 
'Our  whole 
lUfair,  and 

er  for  my 
)  time  with 

more  beau- 
e  has  con- 

i'  like  fly- 


rou  arc  too 

my  life.     I 

Will  you, 

,ke." 
that  Mary 


r,  "  give  me 
cvillc,  for  it 

irythin'  that 

lankful,  the 
I  had  not 
td  to  me  the 
the  natur' 
I  in  the  same 
the  same 
lother,  and 
didn't  like 
I  last  saw 
ihung  their 
k  soon  as  I 

Itiful  place  ? 
live !     How 


,(\d  minutes 

is  sweet." 

iput  on  hei 


spectacles  and  examined  it.  "  Dear  me/ '  she  said,  "  how  much  that 
looks  like  Prince  Edward's  Lodge,  on  Bedford  Basin.  The  last  time 
I  was  at  Halifax,  I  was  at  a  ball  there.  Little  did  I  think,  then,  I 
was  talkin'  to  the  father  of  a  future  Queen  of  England ! 

" '  Miss  CoUingwood/  he  said,  '  you  don't  appear  in  your  usual 
spirits  to-night.' 

" '  Please  your  Royal  Highness,'  sais  I,  *  it's  the  awful  execution 
to-day !" 

" '  I  assure  you,  Miss  CoUingwood,'  said  the  Prince,  *  there  has 
been  no  execution  done  to-day,'  and  he  lowered  his  voice,  '  but  by 
your  beautiful  eyes.' 

"  That  was  a  very  flattcrin'  speech,  wasn't  it,  from  a  King's  son  ? 
For  there  are  more  eyes  on  them  than  on  other  folks,  which  makes 
them  better  judges. 

"  '  What  do  you  allude  to  ?"  said  his  Royal  Highness. 
" '  Two  men  shot  for  not  bcin'  shaved,  three  for  havin'  a  button 
off  their  coats,  and  the  drum-major  for  havin'  lost  his  queue.' 

"  The  Prince  said  I  was  deceived ;  and  ray  father  stormed  and 
raved  like  a  mad-man  when  he  heard  it,  and  said,  if  Mrs.  Pindlay, 
who  told  me  the  story,  was  a  man,  he'd  shoot  her." 

"Aunt,"  said  Mary,  to  get  rid  of  a  story  that  mortified  them, 
"do  send  Jemmy  off  to  bed;  see  how  sleepy  he  is,  he  has  just  fallen 
off  his  chair." 

Poor  girls  !  I  pitied  them.  People  have  no  ri<tht  to  make  fools 
of  themselves,  imless  ther/  have  no  relations  iv  blufi  for  them. 

"But  what  is  thisr"'  said  Mary,  when  j>he  was  relieved  of  her 
aunt;  "what  a  dear  little  church  !" 

"  It  was  the  church  of  my  poor  old  friend,  Mr.  Hopewell.  After 
the  shepherd  died,  the  tiock  dispersed.     It's  mine  now." 

She  looked  at  mo  for  a  minute  or  two  in  most  eloquent  silenee. 
I  knew  what  was  passin'  th^u'  her  mind;  but  she  said  nothin'.  I 
read  her  little  innocent  hi-irt  as  plain  as  a  book  —  and  a  beautiful 
book  it  was  too.  iShe  e.aiinucd  to  regard  it  with  deep  interest  for 
awhilo,  and  then  returned  -i  to  its  place,  without  another  word;  but 
I  huw  a  tear  in  her  eyr   a&  she  passed  on  to  the  others. 

*'  But  what  i>  this  T'  said  she.  "  Look  here,  Sophy  !"  as  she  took 
u|»  a  daguerrotype-case  and  opened  it. 

'  Mary,  dear,"  said  Aunt  Thankful,  who  had  returned,  "  Mary, 
dear,"  and  she  pressed  ti  foroliiiger  and  thumb  of  both  hands  on 
her  shoulders,  '■•  do  sit  up  straight,  dear.  I  can't  boar  to  see  young 
ladies  stoop  so,  do  you,  Mr.  Maxwell?" 
"  Perhaps  '  she  stoops  to  cniujuer,'  *  said  ho. 
"  /,"  said  Aunt  Thankful,  "don't  know  what  stoopin'  is,  unless 
his  Royal — " 

"Well,  aunt,"  said  Mary,  "I'll  sit  as  straight  as  an  arrow,  a  bul- 
rush, a  drill-sergeant,  a  piko-stalV,  flag-stall',  or  anything  you  like,  to 
16* 


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ti'i' 


% 


186 


JERICHO     BEYOND    JORDAN. 


please  you.  Maxwell/'  said  she,  in  an  under  tone,  "  do  for  good- 
ness gracious  sake  take  aunty  off,  and  ask  her  about  presarvin'  plums, 
■whether  the  stones  arc  taken  out,  or  the  seed  from  raspberries.  Or 
whether  it's  true  a  peach-tree  growd  out  of  Major  Andre's  nose 
when  he  was  dead." 

"Mary,"  said  he,  "that's  too  bad;  don't  talk  so,  my  love." 

"Well  I  won't  ask  you  to  eat  of  the  fruit,"  said  she,  "for  that 
must  be  too  bad;  but  the  story  is  true  nevertheless.  Now  take 
yourself  off,  and  aunty  too.  What  a  beautiful  girl,"  said  Mary, 
takin'  up  again  her  conversation  about  the  daguerrotype  !  "  I  never 
in  my  life  saw  anythin'  so  handsome.  Oh  !  Mr.  Slick,  who  is  that  ? 
Well  you  are  a  man  of  taste.     Who  is  that  ?" 

"You've  been  too  quick,"  said  I,  pretendin'  to  look  confused; 
"  guess." 

"Your  lady-love." 

"  Sophy,  who  do  you  say  ?" 

"Some  fine  lady  of  your  acquaintance  in  England,"  said  she, 
slowly. 

"  You  are  both  out,"  said  I ;  "  it's  only  valuable  as  a  specimen 
of  the  art.  It  is  a  beautiful  impression.  I  have  another  of  the 
same  kind  here ;  if  you  will  do  me  the  fa,vour  to  accept  them,  you 
will  confer  a  great  pleasure  on  me,  for  I  did  them  both." 

Turnin'  over  several  sketches  in  the  portfolio,  I  found  it;  and 
presentin'  the  first  to  Sophy,  I  gave  the  other  to  Mary,  who  said  she 
would  keep  it  as  long  as  she  lived — for  she  dealt  in  strong  terms  — 
•""o  cure  her  vanity  when  she  looked  at  it,  and  to  remember  me  by 
also. 

When  she  opened  it,  she  uttered  somethin'  like  a  scream  of 
delight. 

"Oh!  this  is  worth  a  dozen  of  the  other;  this  is  just  what  I  do 
want.     Oh  !  Sophy,  look  at  this ;  aint  that  a  grand  likeness  ?" 

It  was  one  of  myself.  There  was  somethin'  in  the  little  shuffle 
of  the  cases,  and  in  the  beauty  of  the  one  given  to  Sophy,  that 
kinder  rubbed  her  agin  the  grain.  After  contemplatin'  it  awhile, 
she  said : 

"  BIr.  Slick,  to  have  a  specimen  there  must  be  a  face ;  do  you  set 
so/little  value  on  this  lovely  one,  as  to  part  with  it  so  lightly  ?" 

"  I  can  afford  to  part  with  it,"  said  I,  "  for  the  original  of  it  is 
engraved  on  my  heart,  where  it  will  remain  imprinted  for  ever ;  for 
she  is  as  pure-minded,  and  as  good  and  affectionate  as  stie  is  lov-dy." 

"Engravings  wear  out  or  get  defaced,"  she  said.  ■  I  will  nm  let 
you  deprive  yourself  of  this  exquisite  miniature  in  a  moment  of 
thoughtless  kindness,  '  and  '^he  handed  it  back  to  nio. 

"Mary,"  said  I,  "don't  let  it  be  said  that  this  went  a-beggin' ; 
do  you  keep  it.  You  will  love  the  original  when  you  know  it.  That 
lovely  woman,  though  j'ou  would  scarcely  believe  it,  is  the  sister  of 


nn. 


JEIIIOHO    BEYOND    JORDAN. 


187*' 


the  man  you  called  to-day  a  bewbiskered,  bebearded  Yankee  doodle- 
dandy.     That  is  sister  Sally." 

Sophy  looked  hurt,  and  I  don't  wonder  at  it.  It  aint  right  to 
play  with  people's  feelin's  that  way.  So,  sais  I,  to  save  myself  from 
gcttin'  the  luittcn  I  desarved :  •  - 

'■  You  are  quite  right,  Sophy ;  if  that  had  been  a  likeness  of  any 
one  but  a  sister,  a  man  who  would  part  with  it  in  that  way  would 
betray  a  sacred  trust.  I  honour  your  feelin's  more  than  my  own 
behaviour  in  this  matter.  We  can't  look  at  all  those  sketches  now. 
I  will  leave  the  portfolio  with  you  till  you  come  to  Slickville ;  if 
there  is  any  you  would  like  to  keep,  select  them.  There  is  one,"  I 
said,  lowerin'  my  voice,  "I  can't  ask  you  to  select,  or  accept;  but 
if  it  shall  be  left  out  by  accident  like,  when  you  leave  home,  I  shall 
he  delighted." 

We  had  a  charmin'  evenin'.  What  the  Captain  and  Maxwell 
said  and  did,  their  journals  will  show  ;  mine  is  runnin'  over  already. 
"VVc  had  some  very  good  singin'  and  the  Captin  appeared  to  make 
such  rapid  progress  in  Sophy's  regards,  that  on  one  occasion,  to  teazo 
her,  I  pretended  to  look  grave,  and  asked  her  plainly,  which  she 
preferred ;  a  question  that  didn't  please  her  at  all,  for  said  she  : 

"  Mr.  Slick,  how  can  you  be  so  absurd  i*     Neither." 

"One  of  them,"  said  I,  "must  bo  selected,  for  he's  doomed; 
overboard  he  goes  to  a  dead  sartainty,  or  he's  cut  up  for  mackerel 
bait." 

She  couldn't  help  laughin,'  to  save  her  life. 

"  What  an  odd  man,"  she  said,  "  you  are." 

At  another  time  I  suggested  the  propriety,  if  he  complained  of  an 
affection  of  the  heart,  to  prescribe  cold  water  for  Jhim ;  which  she 
said  was  a  very  unfair  and  unkind  remark. 

''I  don't  know,"  sais  I,  "why  he  should  bo  exempted.  Captain 
Tyrrell  and  I  had  to  swallow  it."  The  look  of  astonishment  she 
gave  me,  was  beyond  all  words  to  describe.  She  was  utterly  con- 
founded, and  could  scarcely  speak,  "Sophy,"  sais  I,  "it's  witch- 
craft." 

"  I  believe  it  is,"  said  she ;  "  though  I  hardly  know  what  I  am 
saying." 

"  Sophy,"  and  I  spoke  low,  "  we  are  unobserved  now,  the  Caprin 
iG  takin'  leave,  shake  hands  with  me."  I  gave  her'a  a  slight  squeeze, 
and  the  pressure  was  returned.  I  whispered  to  her,  "  A  thousand 
thanks  for  that/'  sais  I.  "  I'll  see  you  again,  before  I  return  to  the 
States." 

At  last,  the  move  became  general,  and  the  Captain  rose  to  go  on 
hoard,  and  invited  Maxwell  to  accompany  liiui.  Collingv/ood,  how- 
ever, would  not  consent  to  such  an  early  separation. 

^'It  is  not  often,"  he  said,  "I  have  the  pleasure  of  seein'  any  one 
here,  and  you  must  gratify  mc  by  stayin'  a  while  longer.     I  have 


■  « 


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%,. 


188 


TIIEEE    TRUTHS    FOR    ONE    LIE.    i 


m 


f^        ■{IMr.      ■■'. 


not  seen  Slick  for  some  years ;  and,  Captin,  I  have  not  had  time  yet 
to  make  your  acquaintauco.  Come,  sit  down,  and  let's  have  a  little 
more  chat  before  you  go.     Sophy,  order  up  spine  supper." 

Tho  young  ladies  were  fairly  fixed.  Their  fiither's  invitation 
didn't  extend  to  them.  Aunt  Hetty,  too,  was  in  a  hurry,  and  they 
couldn't  help  themselves  j  so  they  exchanged  adieus  with  rne,  which, 
considcrin'  tho  onwelcomo  presence  of  their  father  and  tho  guests, 
was  as  cordial  and  affectionate  as  they  well  could  be. 

As  they  reached  the  door,  Mary  said,  "  Mr.  Slick,  must  you  really 
go  to-morrow  ?     Can't  you  spend  one  day  more  with  us  ?" 

I  knew  and  felt  that  I  ought  to  go,  and  said,  I  feared  it  was  on- 
possible  to  detain  tho  vessel  any  longer 

"  Where  do  you  go  next  ?"  she  said. 

"  What  is  the  name  of  the  nearest  harbour?"  sais  I.  I  knew  as 
well  as  she  did  that  it  was  Port  Jolly  j  but  jist  axed  for  somcthin' 
to  say. 

"Jericho,"  she  replied.  "Don't  you  know  that  this  is  Jordan? 
and  don't  you  know  the  next  is  Jericho  ?  Now,  if  you  won't  stay, 
you  may  just  (/o  to  Jericho  hcyoiid  Jordan  !     So,  good-night !" 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
THREE   TRUTHS   FOR  ONE  LIE. 

The  evenings  are  cool  on  the  southern  coast  of  the  province  until 
late  in  the  spring,  and  although  the  day  had  been  iine,  it  was  found 
if  not  necessary,  at  all  events  agreeable,  to  have  a  Sre. 

"I  like  a  fire,"  said  Collingwood,  "it's  a  sociable  thing;  and 
now  the  ladies  have  retired,  suppose  we  draw  up  round  it  and  have 
a  chat." 

"  Slick,"  said  Cutler,  "  what  a  droll  fellow  you  are ;  you  never 
go  anywhere  you  don't  meet  with  an  adventure.  What  a  singular 
incident  that  was  of  JMiss  Collingwood  falling  into  the  river,  and  her 
instantaneous  rescue.  Now,  though  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  wit- 
ness such  an  accident,  I  am  not  the  man  to  have  the  good  fortune  to 
plunge  in  after  a  lady,  and  save  her  life.  All  these  things  fall  to 
your  lot,  but  none  of  them  ever  occur  to  me.  You  only  did  what 
any  man  of  spirit  would  have  done ;  but  the  young  lady  took  it  as 
easy  as  a  common  bath.  I  never  knew  an  instance  of  better  spirit. 
I  only  hope  she  may  not  feci  tho  effects  of  it.  in  the  shape  of  a  cold." 

"Ah  !  my  dear  friend,"  said  I,  "you  don't  understand  the  natur 
of  women  as  well  as  I  do.  Although  they  are  not  endowed  by  natur 
with  the  same  strength  as  men,  they  aint  deficient  in  rael  courage, 


THREE    TRUTHS    FOR    ONE    LIE- 


189 


1  timo  yet 
ive  a  little 

invitation 
,  and  they 
rne,  which, 
;ho  guests, 

you  really 

.  it  was  on- 


I  knew  as 
*  somethin' 

js  Jordan? 
won't  stay, 
ightl" 


)vincc  until 
was  found 

[thing;  and 
lit  and  have 

you  never 
a  singular 
[er,  and  her 
Drry  to  wit- 
fortune  to 
igs  fall  to 
[y  did  what 
Itook  it  as 
[tter  spirit. 
1  of  a  cold." 
the  natur 
Id  by  natur 
lei  courage, 


when  there  is  need  of  it.  A  woman  that  would  scream  and  faint  if 
a  mouse  was  to  run  over  the  keys  of  her  piano,  could  face  fire,  ship- 
wreck, and  death  in  any  shape,  with  a  calmness  and  coolness  that 
nothin'  but  faith  in  Providence  can  give.  I  recollect  a  curious  cir- 
cumstance that  occurred  down  to  Kennebec,  during  the  revolutionary 
war.  I  had  it  from  one  of  the  family.  Old  Captain  Eldridge  and 
his  son  had  to  leave  home  one  day  to  attend  a  meetiu'  of  the  king's 
friends,  and  there  was  nobody  left  in  the  house  but  his  daughter 
Mary  and  a  hired  gall,  both  on  'em  about  eighteen  years  of  age. 
Well,  things  went  on  as  usual  pretty  much  till  about  sundown,  when 
there  was  an  awful  uproar  in  the  yard.  Such  a  yellin'  and  screamin', 
and  squcelin'  and  gruntin',  and  scamperin'  never  was  hoard. 

"  <What  in  natur'  is  all  that,  Sally?"  said  Miss  Eldridge. 

" '  Lord  only  knows,  Miss,'  said  she,  '  unless  it's  the  rebels  a-seizin' 
of  the  captin's  swine  for  the  fort.  The  cowardly  villains  know  that 
the  men-folks  are  all  away,  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it's  them  taking 
the  chance  to  plunder.' 

'•  'Well,  if  the  men  arc  all  gone  the  guns  aint,'  said  Miss;  'and 
I'll  treat  'em  to  a  shot  at  any  rate.  If  I  don't  hit  'em  I'll  scare 
'em,  for  cowards  don't  like  the  smell  of  powder,  it's  pyson  to  them. 
Let  nie  take  a  look  from  the  back  door.  Lord  a'  mercy  on  us,'  said 
she,  '  it's  a  monstrous  great  big  black  bear,  a-carryin'  off  the  old  sow 
in  his  arms.  Why  he  stands  seven  feet  high  a-most  on  his  hind 
legs.  Let's  drive  him  off — follow  me,'  and  she  took  a  brand  of 
burnin'  wood  from  the  kitchen  fire  and  ran  after  the  bear,  wavin'  it 
round  and  round  to  keep  the  blaze  bright,  and  screamin'  and  shoutin' 
at  the  tip  of  her  voice,  for  wild  varmints  arc  awfully  scared  at  fire. 

"  But  the  bear  warn't  so  easily  darnted ;  he  stopt,  turned  round 
his  head,  and  showed  an  awful  row  of  harrow  teeth,  enough  to 
frighten  any  one.  But  on  she  went,  came  up  to  him,  and  fetched 
him  a  blow  of  the  hot,  sparkling,  hard-wood  stick,  full  of  live  coals, 
right  across  his  eyes  and  nose.  It  did  the  business  for  him.  Bruin 
dropt  the  pig  (that  scampered  off  to  the  sty  roarin'  as  if  clawin' 
warn't  just  quite  as  pleasant  as  ticklin'),  and  then  he  made  for  the 
fence,  which  was  built  of  long  ranging  stuff,  not  trees  nor  poles,  but 
betwixt  and  between  like,  such  as  the  rafters  tliey  use  for  scaffolds. 
Well,  the  bear,  who  was  half  blinded  "by  the  hot  brand,  tried  to  get 
between  the  logs,  and  just  as  he  put  his  head  through,  Miss  lifts  off 
the  upper  one  and  springs  it  on  his  neck,  and  Imd  him  fast  in  a 
minute.  It  just  made  a  trap  like  what  the  Cuba  fellers  call  a  garotte, 
for  stranglin'  of  prisoners. 

''The  way  he  gave  lip  until  the  woods  rang  again,  and  tore  up  the 
chips  and  grass  and  gravel  with  his  hind  feet,  and  set  them  a-flyin' 
in  all  directions,  was  a  caution  to  sinners. 

" '  Sally,'  sais  she,  '  come  here,  and  sit  on  the  cend  of  this  spring 


.!  I 


>  W^''' 


190 


THREE    TRUTHS    FOR    ONE    LIE. 


u  ? 


pole,  keep  it  down  with  all  your  might,  he  can't  get  out,  he  is  pro- 
perly noosed/ 

"  'Oh  !  I  am  afecrd,  Miss,'  said  the  gall,  '  I'm  skecrcd  to  death,' 

"  <  Skcered,  arc  you  if'  sais  she.  '  Now  do  tell.  Well,  I  want  to 
know.  Why?  How  you  talk?  Well,  just  give  mo  your  hand 
then,  that  I  may  take  a  good  jump,  and  we'll  let  him  go;  but  it's  a 
pity  too.' 

"  Weil,  she  creeped  up  and  creeped  up  ever  so  cautious,  keepin* 
one  eye  on  the  beast,  and  the  other  on  the  young  lady,  and  gave  her 
her  hand  And  what  does  Miss  do,  but  gives  her  a  pull  that  nearly 
fetched  her  a  top  of  Bruin. 

" '  Now',  sais  she,  sittin'  of  her  down  on  the  log,  *  do  you  hold 
fast,  till  I  go  for  the  carvin' -knife  and  do  for  him.' 

"  '  Oh !  dear  Miss  Eldridgc,'  sais  she,  <  I  can't.  Oh  !  don't  Iciiva 
me  in  the  jaws  of  this  roarin'  lion,  that's  a  dear  lady — oh !  don't. 

"  <  It  aint  a  lion,  Sally !'  said  she ;  '  it's  nothin'  but  a  bear.  Don't 
be  skeered;  but  don't  stir  for  your  life,  or  the  crittur  will  give  you 
such  a  hug,  Bill  Edwards  will  be  jealous.' 

"  '  Oh  !  be  quick.  Miss  Mary,  then ;  he's  strugglin'  dreadful  now.' 

"  Well,  she  flew  to  the  house  and  back  agin  with  the  knife  as 
quick  as  wink,  and  passiu'  through  the  gate,  got  the  other  side  of 
the  villain,  and  stood  ready  for  action. 

"  '  Now,  Sally,'  sais  she,  '  hold  on  for  dear  life.  When  he  feels 
the  knife,  he  will  make  a  desperate  splunge,  and  kirwollop  like  any- 
thin'.     Are  you  ready  ?' 

« '  Yes.' 

"'Then  here  goes,'  and  she  drew  the  knife  right  across  his 
throat.  Well,  his  tongue  was  stuck  out  ever  so  far,  his  eyes  flashed 
fire  enough  to  light  up  the  fence  amost,  and  he  fairly  roared  agin 
with  pain.  He  braced  up  against  the  fence  with  his  hind  feet,  and 
managed  to  get  a  small  purchase  for  his  paws,  and  made  a  desperate 
pull  backward  with  all  his  might.  The  more  he  pulled,  the  mora 
he  opened  the  wound,  and  she  got  another  clear  sweep  of  the  knife 
across  the  gash,  and  cut  it  through.  In  the  lust  struggle,  he  threw 
his  hind  parts  almost  on  to  Sally,  and  she  screamed,  '•  Let  go !'  and 
he  pulled  out  his  head,  and  arter  her  quick  stick.  But  it  was  no 
go.  Arter  a  jump  or  two,  he  fell,  and  then  he  rose,  and  fell  again, 
and  then  he  got  up,  and  staggered  about  with  his  head  hangin',  and 
fell  heavy,  and  bled  to  death.  He  was  the  larg-^st  bear  ever  seen 
on  the  Kenebec  river.  Well,  some  of  thp.  neighbours  skinned  it 
for  her ;  and  what  do  you  think  she  did  with  the  fur  ?" 

"  Made  a  muff  of  it,"  said  CoUingwood, 

*'No." 

"  Trimmed  a  sleigh  ?" 

"No," 

"  Made  a  counterpane  ?" 


na 


THREE    TRUTHS    FOR    ONE    LIE, 


191 


"No." 

"  A  mat  for  tho  bed-side  ?"    .  •'- 

"No."  ,,>.•'        ' 

"  Why,  what  on  airth  did  sho  do  with  it  then  ?"       ^  "^     J 

"  Why,  she  had  the  skin  shaved  close,  and  took  the  fur  and  spun 
it  into  yarn,  and  vowed,  if  she  married  an  officer  in  the  king's  ser- 
vice, she  would  knit  a  battle-shirt  for  him,  that  he  might  bo  re- 
minded of  the  courage  of  his  wife ;  and  if  she  married  a  civilian, 
and  e\or  had  sons,  tho  first  shirt  they  should  ever  put  on  should  be 
one  made  of  the  hair  of  that  boar,  that  they  might  be  bravo  and 
victorious !" 

''  Well,  did  she  ever  marry  ?"  said  the  Captain. 

"  Yes,  she  did,  one  of  the  mildest  and  meekest  of  men,  a  clergy- 
man of  the  Church  of  England,  that  was  settled  arterwards  in  Nova 
Scotia  —  as  good  and  as  peaceable  a  missionary  as  the  society  ever 
employed.     Now,  that's  human  natur  agin." 

"  Well,  it  aint  my  idea  of  what's  nateral,"  said  Collingwood,  "  for 
like  seeks  like,  the  brave  like  the  brave  —  birds  of  a  feather  flock 
together.     You  know  who  people  are  by  their  associates." 

"Excuse  me,"  sais  I,  "you've  got  it  wrong.  The  natur  of  mat- 
rimony is  one  thing,  and  the  natur  of  friendship  is  another.  A  tall 
man  likes  a  short  wife ;  a  veat  talker  likes  a  silent  woman,  for  both 
can't  talk  at  once.  A  gay  man  likes  a  domestic  gall,  for  he  can 
leave  her  to  home  to  nuss  children  and  mak(  pap,  while  he  is  en- 
joyin'  of  himself  to  parties.  A  man  tliat  hanto  any  music  in  him, 
likes  it  in  his  spouse,  and  so  on.  It  chimes  '  vutiful,  for  they  aint 
in  eu  other's  way.  Now,  friendship  is  the  '■her  way,  you  must 
like  tho  same  things  to  like  each  other  and  be  fri«.-ids,  A  similarity 
of  tastes,  studies,  pursuits,  ant  recreations  (what  ihcy  call  congenial 
souls) ;  a  toper  for  a  toper,  a  smoker  for  a  .smoker,  a  horse-racer  for 
a  horse-racer;  a  prize-fighter  for  a  prize-fighter  and  so  on.  Matri- 
mony/ likes  contrasts  ;  friendsliip  seeks  its  own  counterparts. 

"  Well,  the  lady  had  three  sons,  and  as  soon  as  they  were  born, 
they  had  the  bear's  shirt  put  on ;  and  one  thing  in  sartin,  they  were 
all  three  men  of  undoubted  courage.  One  was  killed  in  battle  in 
Canada,  a  captin  iu  the  British  army.  The  other  two  were  civilians, 
men  that  nobody  would  think  of  takin'  a  liberty  with.  The  hair 
shirt  is  in  existence  still.  I  seed  ')'  .  =elf,  and  have  a  small  bit  of 
the  yarn  to  home  now." 

"  Well  done.  Slick,"  said  Colling wo.;^,  "that's  not  a  bad  yarn. 

"  It's  a  fact,  though,  I  assure  you.  i  know  the  family  as  well  as 
I  do  yourn.'' 

Here  there  was  a  knock  at  ^he  door,  and  an  inquiry  made  for  the 
Captin,     The  voice  was  that  of  Mr.  Eldad  Nickerson,  who  had 
come  up  for  orders. 
"Come  jn,"  said  Collingwocd.     "Come  in,  Mr.  Nickerson.    The 


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THREE    TRUTHS    FOR    ONE    LIE. 


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ladies  have  retired,  and  we  are  goin'  to  spin  yarns.     Come  in,  and 
.help  us.     You  have  just  missed  a  capital  one." 
'   After  a  little  mock  modesty  on  the  part  of  the  Pilot,  he  allowed 
himself  to  bo  persuaded,  and  joined  the  circle.  ^-  .^ 

"  Well/*  sais  I,  "  pilot,  how  have  you  got  on  to-day  ?" 

"  Grand,  Sir,"  he  said ;  "  better  than  I  expected.  Arter  you  left 
us  a  light  breeze  sprung  up,  and  took  us  in  a  very  few  minutes  tc 
the  anchorin'-ground,  and  everythin'  was  made  snug  and  safe." 

"  Payin'  out  the  cable,"  said  Cutler,  who  took  up  the  conversation 
here,  "  operated  as  a  signal  to  the  Indians,  who  soon  came  on  board 
to  sell  their  beautiful  bark-work,  consistin'  of  slippers,  ornamented 
with  porcupine's  quills,  died  of  various  colours,  and  beads  for  "fully 
arranged,  nests  of  circular  boxes  and  chair-bottoms  finished  the 
same  manner,  and  baskets  of  e^ery  shape  and  size  made  of  birchin 
strips,  not  unlike  the  English  willow  manufacture.  All  these  found 
a  ready  sale  for  presents  to  friends  on  our  return,  and  the  men  were 
desired  to  come  back  immediately  to  traffic  for  oil  and  fish.  The  In- 
dians of  New  England  have  long  since  disappeared  from  that  part 
of  the  continent  in  which  I  was  born,  and  the  first  I  ever  saw  were 
those  of  Nova  Scotia.  What  a  noble  race  they  still  are,  though 
European  vices  and  diseases,  and  above  all,  ardent  spirits,  have  done 
so  much  to  demoralize  them.    What  an  interesting  people  they  are  !" 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  so,"  said  Eldad.  "  They  are  a  dirty,  idle, 
lazy,  vagabond  crew.  Swaller  like  a  crane,  and  sleep  like  a  hog. 
When  they  •  ave  nothin'  to  cat,  they  hunt,  or  fish,  and  if  they  fail 
at  that,  beg.  It's  a  common  phrase  with  us  wliite  folks,  that  a  feller 
is  as  mean  as  an  Indgin,  or  begs  like  an  Indgin ;  and  when  they 
can't  eat  no  more,  and  can't  sleep  no  more,  they  squat  down  and 
play  checkers.  If  that's  interestin',  then  I  want  to  know  ?  How 
the  plague  can  people  be  interestin'  that  take  no  interest  in  any  thin' 
onder  the  sun  ?  that's  my  logic.  Why  if  they  were  to  see  a  rail-car 
or  a  balloon  for  the  first  time,  they  wouldn't  as  much  as  stop  to  look 
at  it,  but  just  pass  on,  as  if  it  was  an  old  story.  They  hante  got  no 
curiosity,  and  they  hante  got  no  ambition ;  and  what's  the  use  of  a 
critter  that  hante  got  them  two  senses.  When  I  was  to  Pictou  for 
a  load  of  coal  last  year,  I  met  an  Indgin  at  the  pit  waitin'  for  the 
foreman,  to  beg,  I  suppose.  This  officer  was  an  Englishman  j  but 
old  moose-meat  didn't  know  that  them  folks  in  a  general  way  are 
most  as  silent  as  a  savage  — would  sooner  give  money  anytime  than 
stop  and  jaw. 

"< Indgin,'  sais  I,  'how  do  they  raise  the  coals  out  of  that  ere 
everlastin',  almighty  dark  hole?' 

"  <  Why,'  sais  he  (for  they  always  have  an  answer,  right  or  wrong), 
*  why,*  sais  he, '  lightem  up  fire,  make  tea-kittle  boil,  and  up  comes 
coal.' 

" '  Great  invention  that,  Indgin,  aint  it  ?'  sais  I.  • 


^ 


THREE    TRUTHS    FOR    ONE    LIE. 


10!^ 


li- 


ne in,  and 

he  allowed 


ter  you  left 
minntes  tc 
safe." 

jonversation 
QC  on  board 
ornamented 
Is  ftii^  -fully 
shed        the 
e  of  biichin 
these  found 
le  men  were 
;h.    The  In- 
im  that  part 
;rer  saw  were 
are,  though 


;s. 


^  have  done 
le  they  are  I" 
a  dirty,  idle, 
like  a  hog. 
if  they  fail 
that  a  feller 
when  they 
,t  down  and 
Inow  ?     How 
t  in  anythin' 
see  a  rail-car 
stop  to  look 
hante  got  no 
the  use  of  a 
to  Pictou  for 
itin'  for  tbe 
[ishman;  but 
leral  way  are 
nytimc  than 

of  that  ere 

bt  or  wrong), 
md  up  comcE 


<'  -  No,'  sais  he,  '  white  man  fool.  If  wood  is  scarce,  instead  of 
makln'  forest  come  as  you  do.  Indgin  goes  to  it.  Tndgin  no  fool  j 
he  builds  his  wigwam  where  wood,  water,  fish,  and  huntiu'  all  meet. 
He  has  nothin'  to  do  but  stretchem  out  hand,  help  himself,  and  go 
to  sleep.  White  men  work  all  the  time  j  worL:  for  drink,  work  for  „  • 
eat,  work  for  coat,  work  for  hoyse,  work  for  ox,  work  for  everythin'. 
Indgin  never  works.'      ■:-^4i'l*i.V  k 

"  What  do  you  think  of  &ach  a  feller  as  that,  eh  ?     Mighty  inter- 
estin',  aint  it?" 

"  It's  his  logic,  and  that's  all,"  said  the  skipper.  "  Factis  they 
didn't  understand  each  other.  One  was  a  scholar,  and  the  t)ther  a 
practical  man.  One  looked  at  the  past  and  future,  and  was  filled 
with  wonder  and  awe  at  the  mysterious  decrees  of  Providence )  the 
other  at  the  use  and  fitness  of  things  before  his  eyes.  I  understood 
them  both.  Is  there  nothin'  interesting,**  said  Cutler,  "  in  the  fact 
of  a  noble  race  that  peopled  a  whole  continent  being  destined  to  dis- 
appear from  the  face  of  the  earth,  and.  leave  no  trace  behind  them? 
Whence  came  they  ?  Who  are  they  ?  And  for  what  wise  purpose 
is  it,  that  they  are  to  cease  to  exist  ?  In  workin'  out  their  extinc- 
tion— for  we  are  used  as  the  instruments — are  we  not  working  out 
our  own  condemnation,  and  leaving  an  inheritance  of  sin  and  shame 
to  our  posterity  ?  As  Christians  and  as  men  this  is  a  solemn  ques- 
tion, and  one  which  we  shall,  doubtless,  be  one  day  called  upon  to 
answer.  Is  there  nothing  interesting  in  their  tradidons,  their  legends, 
and  above  all,  their  language  ?" 

"  As  for  their  language,"  said  the  pilot,  "  I  would  as  soon  learn 
the  language  of  the  wolf,  or  the  bear.  What  in  nutur'  is  the  use  of 
it,  except  to  trade  ?  and  signs  will  do  for  that." 

"Mr.  Slick,"  said  Cutler,  "aint  those  beautiful  pictures  that 
Cooper  has  drawn  of  the  Indian  chiefs  in  his  novels  ?  Don't  they 
give  you  the  idea  of  a  splendid  race  of  men  ?  of  nature's  nobility  ? 
In  form,  models  of  manly  beauty ;  in  qualities  of  mind  equal  to  the 
sages  and  heroes  of  antiquity." 

"  Tell  you  what,"  sais  I,  "  friend  Cooper's  trade  was  fiction,  and 
fiction  aint  truth,  whatever  else  it  is.  I  can't  write  books  as  well  as 
he  did,  but  I'm  a  bit  of  an  artist  in  my  own  line,  and  can  draw  and 
paint  a  little,  too." 

"  That  you  can,"  said  Collingwood,  '*  and  draw  as  long  a  bow  as 
any  Indian  or  author." 

"  Thank  you  for  nothin',"  sais  I,  "  I  owe  you  one  for  that." 

"  Well,"  sais  he,  ''  you  are  able  to  pay  it,  if  any  man  can,  that's 
a  fac^." 

"  AVell,"  sais  I,  "  there  are  two  kinds  of  pictures,  fancy  sketches 

and  sketches  from  natur.'     His  are  all  fancy  work.     I  have  been  a 

great  deal  among  the  Indgins,  and  know  them  well.     There  never 

were  such  chiefs  as  he  has  drawn,  and  they  never  acted  or  talked 

17 


IV 


I  -mm 


194 


THREE    TRUTHS    FOR    ONE    LIE 


iii 


-^..-^ 


that  way.  It's  the  fashion  with  us  to  make  grand  speeches  for  them, 
and  make  them  talk  like  Ossian's  heroes — ^half  mist,  foam,  and  cat- 
aract, and  half  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  with  a  touch  of  insanity,  run- 
nin'  through  all.  It  sounds  beautiful,  school-galls  get  'em  by  heart, 
and  call  'em  sublime  j  and  commencement-day  boys  spout  them  out 
with  awful  effect ;  while  their  mothers  open  their  mouths  and  swal- 
ler  all,  and  their  fathers  scratch  their  heads,  to  feel  if  their  scalps 
are  safe,  it  sounds  so  nateral.  A  feller  that  can  feed  off  a  dead  horse, 
that  would  pyson  a  crow,  and  smack  his  lips  after  it,  and  then  go 
, ,  and  lie  down  on  his  belly,  and  drink  green  swamp  water  by  the 
quart,  may  be  a  hero;  but  he  can't,  acccrdia'  to  the  natur'  of  things, 
be  any  great  shakes  of  an  orator.  If  he  can,  we  had  better  shut  up 
shop  to  Cambridge,  and. say  larnin'  is  all  buncum.  They  are  a  fine 
race  of  men,  no  doubt,  and  Providence  had  to  make  'em  so,  other- 
wise wild  beasts  would  have  made  mince-meat  of  them  long  before 
the  Europeans  did ;  but  still,  they  are  savages  after  all,  and  savage 
vices  ever  predominate  over  savage  virtues.  The  questions  you  have 
broached,  are  deeply  interestin',  I  do  suppose ;  but  Paul  Tomahawk, 
and  Peter  tScalpin-knife  are  ugly  customers,  and  not  so  easily  civil- 
ized as  you  think.  Old  maids  fancy  nobody  knows  how  to  bring  up 
children  but  them  ;  but  children  know  they  are  dry-nurses,  and 
laugh  at  'em.  And  Boston  and  Philadelphia  philosophers  think 
that  they  know  how  to  christianize,  humanize,  and  civilize  savages; 
but  savages  look  on  'em  as  harmless,  tame  cattle,  that  live  on  rich 
pastures,  and  like  to  lie  down,  chaw  the  cud,  and  look  wise. 

"  Take  a  wild  duck's  eggs  (I  have  often  done  it),  hatch  'em  out 
under  a  tame  one,  and  as  soon  as  their  wings  are  strong  enough,  off 
they  go,  it's  their  natur'.  Or  rob  a  hawk's  nest,  and  hatch  one  of 
its  eggs  under  a  pea-hen,  with  her  own,  as  soon  as  the  young  gentle- 
man begins  to  feel  his  helm,  he  sups  on  his  foster-brothers  and  sis- 
ters, and  soars  away  with  his  nurse  in  his  claws  for  dinner.  That's 
the  gratitude  of  savage  life.  You  can't  do  it ;  no  how  you  can  fix  it. 
They  have  an  old  proverb  here,  and  I  like  proverbs,  there  is  so 
much  truth  in  'em,  in  a  small  compass.  An  Indian,  a  partridge, 
and  a  spruce  tree  can't  be  tamed."  , ,.-  .  . 

..    ''Do  you  think  they  can't  be  civilized  ?"  he  said. 

"  No,"  sais  I,  "  I  don't  think  no  such  thing.  But  wo  go  tlifl 
wrong  way  to  work.  The  voluntary  principle  won't  do,  you  must 
constrain  'em.  Children  are  constrained,  and  so  are  school-bojs, 
and  so  are  students  at  universities,  to  say  nothin'  of  apprentices  and 
servants.  Well,  sodgers  are  disciplined  by  constraint,  and  so  are 
sailors,  the  most  difficultest  people  in  the  world  to  deal  with.  Well,  i 
society  is  consrained  by  laws,  police-ofiicers,  jails,  penitentiaries,  and 
gallowses.  What  in  natur'  is  the  use  of  t>alkin'  to  savages.  They 
have  nothin'  ju  common  with  you.  They  don't  think  like  you,  value 
what  you  do,  or  have  the  same  springs  of  action.     It's  all  moon- 


•.i^^itHjii 


THREE    TRUTHS     FOR     ONE    LIE 


1^5 


hes  for  them, 
oam,  and  cat- 
insanity,  run- 
'em  by  heart, 
pout  them  out 
iths  and  swal- 
if  their  scalps 
J  a  dead  horse, 
;,  and  then  go 
water  by  the 
atur'  of  things, 
better  shut  up 
rhey  are  a  fine 
'em  so,  other- 
em  long  before 
all,  and  savage 
stions  you  have 
aul  Tomahawlj, 
:  so  easily  civil- 
low  to  bring  up 
dry-nurses,  and 
losophers  think 
civilize  savages; 
hat  live  on  rich 
ik  wise. 

,  hatch  'em  out 
,ng  enough,  off 
A  hatch  one  of 
,ie  young  gentle- 
irothers  and  sis- 
dinner.     That's 
iw  you  can  fix  it. 
srbs,  there  is  so 
.an,  a  partridge,' | 


But  we  go  tlifl 
rt  do,  you  nrnst 

lare  school-boys, 
apprentices  and 
lint,  and  so  are 
leal  with.  Well, 
Vitentiaries,  and 
_  savages.  They 
|k  like  you,  value  I 

It's  all  moon- 


shine, it's  beginnin'  at  the  wrong  eend.  See  what  fools  the  British 
made  of  themselves  in  the  Caffre  wars,  from  not  knowin'  this ! 
Treatin'  them  naked  savages  like  gentlemen,  and  takin'  their  word 
for  peace.  What  the  plague  do  English  generals  know  about  bush- 
fightin*  ?  or  the  natur'  of  them  heathen,  ontamed,  rampaginous  imps 
of  darkne-ss  ?  And  what  security  will  they  ever  have  of  them  crit- 
ters keopin'  the  peace  longer  than  when  their  stock  of  cattle  is 
renewed,  and  a  fresh  supply  of  arms  and  ammunition  laid  in  ?  But 
that's  their  look  out,  and  not  mine;  and  this  I  will  say,  some  of  our 
Peace  Society  folks  haven't  much  reason  to  larf  at  them  either. 

"  These  wise  men  of  Goshen  sent  a  missionary  onct  to  the  Bur- 
mese.    Well,  one  day  he  built  a  bamboo  tent  near  one  of  their  tem- 
ples, and  as  the  heathens  were  goin'  to  idolotrize,  he  stood  at  the 
door  to  preach  to  them,  and  convart  them.     He  took  for  his  text 
that  passage  that  refers  to  livin'  water  that  quenches  thirst  for  ever. 
Well,  it  was  a  capital  text,  if  they  could  have  understood  it;  but 
they  didn't ;  and  off  they  ran  as  hard  as  they  could  lick,  and  what 
was  his  horror  when  he  saw  them  all  return  with  cans,  Qups,  gourds, 
calabashes,  and  what  not  for  the  fluid ;  and  when  they  found  he 
hadn't  it,  they  pulled  down  his  bamboo  camp,  and  took  the  sticks 
and  thrashed  him  amost  to  death.    In  fact,  he  never  did  get  over  it. 
He  died  from  that  are  beaten.     They  called  him  a  Yankee  cheat, 
and  it  lowered  our  great  nation  araazinly — fact,  I  assure  you.     The 
right  way  is — but  you  and  I  aint  a-goin'  to  be  missionaries,  so  we 
wont  enter  into  details  ;  at  least,  I  aint.     I  don't  want  to  be  grilled 
and  eat  for  supper,  that's  a  fact.    I'd  like  to  see  them  cunvarted  into 
Christians ;  but  I  don  t  want  to  be  converted  into  a  curried  dock- 
maker,  I  can  tell  you.     They  are  far  above  niggers  though,  that  I 
will  say ;  and  they  despise  those  woolly-headed,  thick-sculled,  long- 
heeled,  monkey-faced  gentleman  as  much  as  you   or  I.     In  that 
particular,  they  have  more  pride  than  we  have.     White  women  do 
sometimes  marry  niggers,  but  an  Indgin  gall  never.    She'd  die  first. 
The  Indgins  here  in  this  country  are  no  fools,  I  tell  you.     Though 
they  do  eat  like  a  boa-constrictor,  swallow  enough  at  one  meal  to  last 
for  two  days,  and  that  muddifies  the  brain,  still  they  know  what's 
good,  and  aint  above  lookin'  a  gift  horse  in  the  mouth.     Lord !  I 
shall  never  forget  an  evenin'  onct  that  I  was  goin'  down  La  Halve 
river,  in  a  canoe  with  two  Indgins.     Well,  dark  come  on,  and  it 
began  to  blow  like  statiee,  and  I  saw  a  light  in  a  house  in  the  woods, 
and  I  told  them  to  run  ashore  for  the  night. 

'"Now,"  sais  I,  'strike  up  a  light  here,  and  take  a  stretch  for  it 
in  the  bush,  and  hold  on  till  raornin'.  Well,  we  hauled  up  the 
canoe,  and  knocked  up  a  shelter  in  no  time,  and  as  I  was  a-goin' 
towards  the  cottage  of  a  highlauder  that  lived  there,  to  get  a  night's 
lodging,  a  little  wrinkled  man  in  an  old  homespun  dress  that  was 
onct  blue,  but  had  grown  grey  in  the  sarvice,  and  wearin'  a  sealskin 


».  -J 


I 


V 


mm 


196 


THREE     TRUTHS     FOR     ONE     LIE, 


^ 


cap,  came  towards  me.  I  thought  by  his  look  he  was  one  of  the 
laird's  helps,  or,  as  they  call  it,  a  joint  of  his  tail,  that  had  small 
wages  and  poor  fare,   .-i'-, •,"'■. 

"  Hallo,  friend,'  sais  I,  'do  you  belong  to  this  house?* 

"'Nae,  she  don't  belong  to  the  hoose/  sini  he,  ^but  the  hoose 
belongs  to  herself.  It's  Squire  Rory  M'Tavish  you  have  the  honour 
to  speak  to.'  ■  '■'        V'm 

"  Well,  thinks  I  to  myself,  considering  you  havn't  so  much  as  a 
pair  of  breeches  to  wear,  that  piece  of  pride  aint  bad,  that's  a  fact; 
■  the  pattern  of  the  kilt  is  big  enough,  in  the  hands  of  a  good  tailor  to 
make  you  a  pair ;  but  who  on  airth  gave  you  the  name  of  Rory  ? 
What  a  devil  of  a  fellow  you'd  be  at  roarin',  wouldn't  you  frighten 
the  grasshoppers  a'most?  I  thought  I  should  have  roared  out 
myself.  Well,  you  are  a  riproarious  fellow,  Rory,  and  no  mistake ; 
but  I  wanted  a  bed  and  a  supper,  sol  soft-sawdered  hira,  and  smoothed 
the  laird  down,  and  by  the  time  we  reached  the  house,  we  were  as 
thick  as  two  thieves.  The  little  feller  was  a  good-hearted  critter  too, 
as  all  Highlanders  are,  and  out  came  a  hearty  welcome,  and  then 
out  came  the  whiskey,  and  then  out  came  his  wife — a  better  feller 
than  ho  was,  and  far  better-lookin'  too — a  rael  jolly  nice  little 
woman.  •        i  '';' 

" '  How  did  you  come  V  said  she. 

"  Well,  I  told  her  about  the  canoe,  and  the  Indgins,  and  all  that, 

"What!'  she  said,  Uhc  poor  Indians  sleepin'  in  the  heather! 
Murdoch,'  sais  she,  addressin'  a  little  bare-footed  chieftain,  that  had 
a  head  of  red  hair  that  would  have  stuffed  a  gall's  side-saddle  a'most, 
'  go  and  bring  them  up  here,  they  must  have  a  supper,  and  sleep  bj 
the  fire.' 

Well,  everythin'  went  on  swimmingly.  They  gave  me  a  capital 
supper,  and  wc  told  capital  stories.  I  know  hisn  must  have  been 
capital,  though  I  didn't  understand  a  word  of  them,  for  he  larfed  so 
'  in  tellin'  them,  they  nearly  choked  him;  and  I  roared  in  tellin' 
mine,  for  I  knew  he  could  not  make  out  what  I  was  talkin'  about 
either.  I  haw-hawed  so  loud,  that  I  actilly  waked  up  the  cock  that 
was  roostin'  in  the  porch,  and  sot  him  off  a  crowin'  too.  We  kicked 
up  a  great  bobbery,  that's  a  fact.  In  the  midst  of  it,  in  comes  Mrs. 
McTavish,  lookin'  as  red  as  a  turkey-cock,  and  struttin'  like  a  ban- 
tam-hen, head  up  stiff  and  strait,  wings  extended  angrj'-like,  till  thej 
scraped  the  floor.  She  was  in  a  riproarious  passion,  if  she  didn't 
talk  quick,  it's  a  pity.  First  she  talked  Gaelic,  and  then  she  trans- 
lated it.  She  made  a  long  yarn  of  it;  but  the  short  of  it  was  this, 
she  gave  the  Indians  a  pot  of  burgoo— oatmeal  and  water — for  tbeii 
supper,  and  they  refused  to  cat  it,  sayin' :  '  Blay  be  very  good  for 
Scotchmen  and  pigs,  but  Indian  no  eat  it,'  and  walked  out  of  the 
house  in  high  dudgeon. 
„^  „  "  Oh !  didn't  little  Rory  roar,  and  Mrs.  Rory  rave,  and  didn't  I 


..#;.: 


THREE     TRUTHS    FOR     ONE     LIE. 


19^ 


go  into  convulsions?  I  thought  I  should  have  died  on  the  spot  for 
want  of  breath.  I  joined  in  berating  the  Indians  though  of  course, 
Lf  I  should  hava  been  obliged  to  cut  stick  too;  but  it  was  almost 
too  much  for  my  ribs.  Well  done,  hairy  scalps,  sais  I  to  luyself, 
well  done,  hairy  scalps,  your  pride  has  outdone  hairy  legs  this  time  at 
any  rate.  Oh  dear  !  how  Ambassador  laughed,  when  he  heard  that 
story. 

"  It  was  the  lirst  time  I  ever  heerd  him  laugh,  for,  in  a  general 
way,  he  only  smiles,  and  gives  a  twinkle  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye 
But  that  time  he  laughed  right  out,  and  sais  he  : 

"'Sam,'^  and  he  took  out  his  handkerchief  and  wiped  his  eyesf' 
'Sara,  don't  tell  that  story  here  to  London.  There  are  a  great  many 
chieftains  here  in  the  season,  and  you  wouldn't  know  they  weren't 
lowlanders,  for  they  conform  to  the  fashion,  wear  trousers,  and  dress 
quite  decent.  I  like  them  myself,  they  are  a  fine,  manly,  good- 
hearted  race,  but  they  are  very  national  and  very  touchy,  and  you'll 
get  called  out  as  sure  as  you  are  born.'     ;    •         -  > 

"  '  Well,'  sais  I,  *  let  them  call ;  but  they  must  call  louder  than 
little  Rory,  if  they  want  a  man  to  listen  to  them.  If  a  feller  thinks 
to  stop  my  talk,  he's  mistaken ;  for  if  I  don't  make  a  hole  in  his 
cheek  big  enough  to  hold  the  tube  of  his  unchristian  bagpipe  in,  my 
name  isn't  Sam  Slick.  Ambassador,'  sais  I, '  Latin  and  Greek  is  your 
forte.  If  a  feller  held  a  pistol  to  you,  and  told  you  not  to  speak  them 
languages,  or  if  you  did  you  must  go  out  with  him,  would  that  stop 
you  ?  I  kinder  guess  not.  Well,  I  wouldn't  swap  my  stories  for 
your  Latin  and  Greek,  nor  the  embassy  to  boot;  and  no  Highlander, 
from  Ben  Lomond  to  John  0' Groat's,  shall  stop  me.'  j, 

"I  saw  he  was  bothered.  He  didn't  know  what  to  say.  He" 
didn't  approve  of  duellin',  but  sHU  he  was  a  Yankee,  and  wouhia't 
like  to  have  one  of  the  embassy  called  a  cowara.  ?^^' . 

" '  Sam,'  sais  he,  '  it's  a  serious  matter  here ;  if  it  eends  fatally 
it's  murder.  What  would  you  do  under  the  circumstances  ?'  said  he, 
lookin'  very  grave. 

"  '  Act  like  a  man.  Sir,'  sais  I.  "  Accept  his  invite  at  once,  and 
he  gallus  polite ;  give  him  his  choice  of  weapons,  rifles  or  pistols,  or 
sittcn'  straddle-legs  across  a  keg  of  gunpowder,  but  resarve  the 
choice  of  ground  to  myself.  Well,  as  soon  as  he  makes  his  selection, 
which  would  be  pistols  of  course,  he'd  say,  now  name  your  ground. 
Well,  I'd  say,  I  take  it  for  granted  I  shall  let  daylight  through  you, 
for  I'm  a  dead  shot ;  but  perhaps  you  thini  you  are  a  deader  one, 
and  make  sartin  you'll  fix  my  flint.  Now,  in  order  to  spare  the 
survivor's  life,  and  have  no  arrests  or  trials  about  it,  and.  save  judges 
from  talkin'  hippocritical,  ray  the  right  bank  of  the  Mississippi. 
Name  your  day.  But  I  hope  you  won't  be  oiFended  with  me,  as  1 
know  the  country  better  than  you  do,  for  advisin'  you  to  wear  trou- 
sers there  instead  of  kilts,  or  as  sure  as  you're  born,  you  will  never 
17* 


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THREE  TRUTHS  FOR  ONE  LIB. 


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reach  the  ground  alive,  for  the  galley-nippers.     I  wish  you  a  good 

mornin'.' 

"  *Sani/  sais  he,  'what  a  way  you  have  of  raakin'  fools  of  people.* 
'*  'It's  a  knack,  Sir,'  sais  I,  'wo  Connecticut  people  have,  and  it's 

useful  in  important  things  as  well  as  in  trifles^  as  the  nigger  says  in 

the  song:  ^:'-i?  •.    >• 

"Oh,  habbent  I  do  knack,  •     V  .    •  '    :     :  t^ 

Ob  suckin'  sugar-candy  and  drinkin'  apple-jack." 

\ ,  "  There  is  some  fun  in  Indians,  too,  Captin,"  sais  I,  to  go  on  with 
my  story  about  'em.  "  I  was  once  to  Liverpool  Falls,  when  I  was 
in  this  country  last,  and  there  was  a  feller  called  Tony,  took  a  very 
good  rise  out  of  a  settler  near  there,  called  Bednigo  Latty.  Bednigo 
met  him  one  day  in  the  road,  in  winter,  and  as  soon  as  Tony  saw 
him,  he  began  to  limp  and  make  faces. 

"'What's  the  matter,  Tony?'  sais  the  other;  'have  you  hurt 
yourself?' 

" '  Oh !"  said  Tony,  stoppin'  short,  puttin'  down  his  gun,  and 
restin'  over  the  muzzle,  '  me  most  dead,  me  tired  out ;  me  no  drag 
my  legs  along  scarcely.  Mister  Latty;  me  chase  moose,  very  big 
moose,  two  whole  days;  and  when  I  kill  him  at  last,  me  so  tired,  me 
not  able  to  skin  him,  or  bring  any  meat  home  to  my  squaw.  I  give 
him  to  you;  if  you  go  for  him  you  shall  have  him.  Only  give  poor 
squaw  one  small  piece  for  her  dinner.' 

"  '  Yes,'  said  Bednigo,  'and  thank  you,  too;  but  how  shall  I  find 


moose 


V 


" '  Oh !  I  tell  you  so  you  find  him,  sartin  sure.  You  know 
Grand  Lake?'       '  .;'r 

"  '  Yes.' 

"  '  You  know  where  neck  of  land  runs  way  out  ever  so  far,  into 
lake?' 
;,    "'Yes.'        ■ 

"  '  You  know  where  large  birch  tree  grows  out  of  the  end  of  that 
neck  ?' 

"'Yes.'  •■■■      '        ■■  ■■  ■■  ■       • 

"  '  Well,  moose  just  under  that  birch  tree  there;  very  big  moose. 
You  get  him,  you  have  him.' 

"  Well,  next  mornin'  Bednigo  makes  up  a  huntin'-party,  and  off 
they  starts  through  the  woods,  eight  miles  as  the  crow  flies,  in  a 
straight  line  for  Grand  Lake ;  and  at  the  upper  end  of  it,  four  miles 
further,  they  found  the  neck  of  land,  and  the  big  birch  tree,  but  no 
moose,  and  no  signs  of  one,  or  tracks  either. 

"  Well,  they  reiurned  homo  as  savage  as  bears,  for  they  knowed 
they  would  be  larfed  at  by  the  whole  settlement,  for  bein'  took  in  so 
by  an  Indian.  But  they  sarched  all  round  the  lake  first,  in  hopes 
of  havin'  somethin'  to  bring  home,  and  detarmined  if  they  did,  not 


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THREE    TRUTHS     FOR    ONE    LIB. 

to  tell  the  story  j  but  they  had  no  luck  that  day,  and  they  camped 
out,  and  huuced  the  best  part  of  next  day,  but  saw  nothin*,  and 
returned  as  tired,  in  fact,  as  Tony  pretended  to  be,  and  awful  hungry, 
for  they  intended  to  feed  on  the  fresh  steaks. 

"The  next  time  liednigo  saw  the  Indian,  'Hullo!'  sais  he,  'what 
did  you  mean  by  tellin'  me  that  lie  about  the  moose,  and  sendin'  me 
away  out  there,  to  make  a  fool  of  me,  you  Indgian  rascal  ?  I  have 
a  great  mind  to  thrash  you,  you  villain  !' 

" '  What  lie  V  said  Tony,  very  gravely.  ,    . 

"  <  Why  that  lie  about  the  moose.'  .tjv.:,'.v" 

"'Ah  !'  said  he,  'you  no  gettum  moose?' 

"No!  of  course  I  did'nt;  there  was  none  there,  and  you  knowd 
it  well  enough.' 

"'Very  strange,'  said  Tony,  'you  no  gettum  moose,'  quite  un- 
moved by  the  threat.     '  Did  you  find  grand  lake  ?' 

"'Yes.'  ■^-''^^-%:^'^--';i^-m^'=T 

" '  Well,  that's  one.  Did  you  find  neck  of  land  runnin'  away  out 
into  water  ?' 

" '  Yes.'     '■ "-        ■"■*'■  •'"■■'-"•■  ■  ■  —  '-'': '-'  ■■'  ■  ■'  -^-'^ 

" '  Well,  that's  two.     Did  you  find  big  birch  tree  ?' 

"'Yes.'  :^.-;:^^ 

" '  Well,  that's  three,  and  you  no  findem  moose?' 

"'No.' 

" '  Well,  that's  three  truths  for  one  lie.  Pretty  well  for  Indiam- — 
aint  it  r  When  I  sold  you  my  furs  last  spring,  you  cheated  me,  a;nd 
what  you  said  was  all  one  grand  big  lie.  You  no  pay.  me  yet  — 
cheatem  Indian  —  cheatem  devil,'  and  he  drew  back  a  step  or  two, 
and  began  lookin'  to  the  primin'  of  his  gun,  which  Bednigo  thought, 
as  they  was  alone  in  the  woods,  was  a  hint  Congress  was  broke  up, 
and  members  had  better  cut  off  for  home,  so  he  hung  his  head,  and 
made  tracks.  I  guess  humour  is  in  'em,  for  they  understand  a  joke, 
and  enjoy  it.  Many  a  time  I've  made  'em  laugh,  by  givin'  them  a 
droll  idea  dressed  in  Indian  phrases  and  familiar  words.  The  fact 
is,  natur'  is  natur'  all  the  world  over,  and  the  plainer  talk  is,  and  the 
simpler  written  it  is,  the  nearer  to  life  is  it,  and  the  longer  it  is  re- 
membered —  or  lives. 

"  I  have  often  heard  old  Minister  say,  the  '  Vicar  of  Wakefield ' 
is  more  nor  a  hundred  years  old,  and  is  a  common  book  now,  because 
it's  written  in  common  language ;  and  will  be  a  popular  work  a  hun- 
dred years  hence,  on  that  account,  altho'  it's  no  great  shakes  arter 
all.  It  don't  require  a  scholar  to  enjoy  it.  Why  is  it  if  you  read 
a  book  to  a  man  you  set  him  to  sleep  ?  Just  because  it  is  a  book, 
and  the  language  aint  common.  Why  is  it  if  you  talk  to  him  he 
will  sit  up  all  night  with  you,  and  say,  '  Oh !  don't  go  to  bed  yet, 
stay  a  little  longer  ?' — Just  because  it's  talk,  the  language  of  natur'. 

"It's  only  lawyers  that  read  law  books,  and  doctors  that  read 


...^  Ml... 


200 


THREE    TRUTHS     FOR    ONE     LIE. 


doctor's  books,  and  college  folts  that  read  Latin  and  Greek.  Why? 
Because  nobody  else  onderstands  'em.  They  are  out  of  their  way. 
Well,  some  books  are  read  in  the  parlour,,and  some  in  the  kitchen; 
but  the  test  of  a  rael  genuine  good  book  is,  that  it  is  read  in  both. 
Why?  Because  it  shows  it's  nateral;  for  nitur*  is 'the  same  in 
both.  It  only  differs  in  the  dress;  it's  more  transparent  in  the  kit- 
chen, it's  only  covered  with  gauze  there,  just  for  decency's  sake. 
It's  dressed  in  silk  in  the  other,  and  aint  just  quite  as  easy  seen 
through. 

"  Anythin'  to  please  must  be  nateral,  I  don't  care  what  it  is.  Now 
talk  nateral  to  an  Indgian,  in  lai/'guage  such  as  he  uses  in  common, 
and  use  ideas  that  he  uses,  and  put  humour  into  them,  and  see  if 
he  don't  lurf.  A  little  thing  m:ikcs  a  man  larf,  and  next  to  nothin' 
makes  a  crowd  roar.  We  are  full  of  chords,  from  the  deepest-toned 
silver  stringy  like  that  of  the  harp,  vp  to  the  little  short  dipper  sharp 
one  that  is  only  ttvo  inches  long.  Strike  one  of  i/oiir  own  that  is  in 
tune  with  that  of  another  person,  and  see  if  they  don't  harmonise. 
It  vibrates  through  him.  Anybody  can  be  made  to  larf,  unless  it  is 
one  of  those  sour  chaps  in  North  Britain ;  and  I  believe  in  my  soul 
nothin'  btit  takin'  him  to  see  a  bishop  hariged  or  burned  would  make 
him  larf. 

"  My  idea  is,  that  the  want  of  humour  in  Indgians  comes  from 
not  talkin'  to  their  women.  Women  are  naterally  sharp,  quick- 
witted, and  lively  :  if  they  can't  reason  like  men,  a  nateral  gumption 
takes  'em  to  a, right  conclusion  long  afore  a  man  has  got  half  way 
through  his  argument.  Now  men  without  women's  society  are  like 
bodies  without  souls,  heavy  lumps  of  mortality ;  it's  that  domestic 
degradation  of  the  wife  among  savages  that  beastifies  the  mind  of 
the  man.-;-*  ■■■r^.v  v  ■  - '■   ■•  ,;;.;■/  ■■■■  •■'-.-=::■■  •^''lif 

"He  is  thoughtful,  but  not  playful;  knowin'  but  silent;  'cute, 
but  not  humorous.  It's  a  great  pity  the  misfortunate  critters  'e  so 
fond  of  rum,  it's  the  ruin  of  them ;  they  will  sell  anythin'  a'most 
to  buy  it.      y-;,,.i,-f<s.^; ..<;•:.    .•••  -    -{r -'r^:/ ■:•:■'"' '':' 

"  Joe  Nogood  made  a  capital  answer  to  an  innkeeper  onct,  when 
he  was  purchasin'  a  bottle  of  spirits  from  him.  He  was  very  angry 
at  the  price,  which  was  just  double  what  it  ought  to  be.  He  ob- 
jected a  long  time,  but  could  get  no  abatement.  The  innkeeper 
tried  to  make  him  onderstand  the  loss  of  keepin'  a  cask  of  rum  on 
hand  for  any  length  of  time,  and  explained  to  him  about  the  interest 
of  money  that  he  was  losin'  on  the  principal  spent  in  the  purchase. 
(A  pretty  hard  thing  I  guess  to  make  an  Indgian  comprehend  what 
interest  of  money  is— who  never  received  or  paid  any,  and  never 
had  any  capital  all  his  life.)  Joe  pretended  that  all  he  knew  was  it 
used  to  cost  three  shillings  a  bottle ;  and  now  he  was  asked  six ;  and 
he  gave  him  to  understand  he  didn't  think  much  of  his  principle  to 
extort  arter  that  fashion,  and  didn't  think  it  was  for  his  interest 


warn 


THREE    TRUTHS    FOR    ONE    LIE. 


^61 


jk.  Why? 
■  their  way. 
ho  kitchen ; 
3ad  in  both, 
he  same  in 
t  in  the  kit- 
^ncy's  sake. 
IS  easy  seen 


in  common, 
,  and  see  if 
Kt  to  nothin' 
leepesf-toncd 
upper  sharp 
en  that  is  in 
',  harmonize. 
',  unless  it  is 
e  in  my  soul 
,  ',70uld  make 

comes  from 
harp,  quick- 
iral  gumption 
^ot  half  way 
ciety  are  like 

lat  domestic 
le  mind  of 


T  onct,  when 
very  angry 
be.     He  ob- 
innkeeper 
J  of  rum  on 
the  interest 
le  purchase. 
)rehend  what 
^,  and  never 
knew  was  it 
ked  six ;  and 
principle  to 
his  interest 


either,  for  ho  would  never  buy  any  more  of  him  again.  But  tlio 
barman  argued  away,  and  at  last  wound  up  by  asaertin*  that  between 
wastage,  leakage,  bad  debts,  and  interest,  it  cost  as  muoh  to  keep  a 
hogshead  of  rum  on  hand  as  to  keep  a  cow.  Joe  mused  a  while 
and  knowin'  how  the  feller  was  in  the  habit  of  adultcratin'  the  rum, 
by  the  aid  of  the  pump,  brought  him  up  all  short. 

"  'Ah,'  said  he,  *  maybe  cask  drinkum  as  much  water  as  cow,  but 
sartain  no  eatura  as  much  hay.' 

"  And  bavin'  given  him  that  poKo  ho  paid  the  price,  took  up  his 
bottle,  and  walked.  And  as  he  got  to  the  door  he  turned  and  shook 
his  fist  at  the  extortioner,  and  said,  almost  speechless  with  rage,  '  Now 
man,  I  say  damn.'  '  •  ■*■  "';: 

"An  Indian  is  a  child  of  natur',  eyes  like*  a  lynx,  heart  like  a 
lion,  nose  like  a  pointer,  cunnin'  like  a  fox,  constructive  like  a  beaver, 
destructive  like  a  tiger,  appetite  like  a  boast  of  prey,  and  the  propen- 
sities of  the  devil,  and  yet  ho  has  an  instinct  runnin'  into  strong 
reasonin'  faculties.     What  then  is  the  difierence  between  him  and 
us  ?     Christianity.   Ah  !  that  is  a  great  thing,  if  we  only  knew  how 
to  teach  it  to  them,  and  let  them  see  our  example  was  equal  to  our 
precepts.     They  have  lot^  of  lamp  ile,  what  a  pity  it  is  they  can't 
read.     It's  the  fashion  among  easy-chair  Christians  to  England  to 
undervalue  the  labours  of  bishops  in  foreign  parts.     It's  a  great  pri- 
vilege to  abuse  a  bishop  and  praise  a  savage — aint  it  ?   It's  Christian 
charity  too,  for  as  this  mitered  gentleman  has  to  beai;,all  things,  he 
has  to  put  up  with  your  sarce.  Well,  he  has  to  have  his  food  cooked 
in  course,  for  he  is  used  to  it.     The  dear  child  of  natur'  eats  it  raw. 
"A  bishop's  task  is  no  easy  one  at  any  rate,  and  it  is  made  more 
difficult  by  other  sects  underminin'  him  in  his  labours,  and  sayin'  he 
has  no  Scriptural  authority.    How  in  the  world  is  lawn  sleeves  agoin' 
to  convart  a  critter  whose  appetite  is  stronger  than  a  pig's,  who 
drinks  dog-fish  oil,  thickened  with  blubber,  the  most  awful  pisonous 
stuff  in  the  world,  and  dines  off  of  whale-steaks,  cut  out  of  a  fish  that 
died  afore  the  flood,  and  has  been  presarved  ever  since  in  natur' s  ice- 
house at  the  North  Pole.     If  bishop  is  goin'  to  do  the  civil,  and 
tal    [lot  luck  with  him,  and  wants  to  soft-sawder  him,  he  must  jo 
lower  down  still  than  that,  so  that  savage  may  say :  '  This  Christian 
chap  is  a  very  sociable  feller,  arter  all,  but  I  guess  he  aint  used  to 
such  delicacies  to  home  as  dead  foxes,  and  shipwracked  seals.'    Still 
the  question  is :  what  is  the  difference  between  us  Christians  and 
savages  ?     The  great  thing  is  to  settle  what  that  term  Christianity 
means.     We  ought  to  onderstand  it,  you  know,  for  we  expound  it  at 
our  tea-parties,  and  teach  our  parsons. 

"A  savage  looks  at  us  and  our  doin's,  and  says.  Christians  is  no 
great  shakes  arter  all.  Aint  that  shockin'  now  ?  You  must  double 
your  subscriptions,  old  ladies.  He  says  we  don't  onderstand  our- 
selves, and  asks  what  in  the  world  is  the  meanin'  of  that  word  Chris- 


r'-f  s ,  7^^^^  r^i. 


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THREE    TRUTHS    FOR    ONE    LIE. 

tianity  ?  Ono  is  nicknamed  an  idolater,  and  has  a  fisherman's  ring, 
when  it's  well  known  fishermen  never  wore  rings.  And  t'other  is 
branded  a  heretic,  who  wears  long  bunds  to  look  wise,  which  were 
never  invented  until  long  beards  were  cut  off.  And  the  third  is  a 
free  livin'  and  free  thinkin'  gentleman.  He  says :  they  preach  good 
will  to  all  men  and  hate  each  other  like  the  devil.  They  fight 
among  themselves,  and  use  us  as  tools.  One  has  a  book  called  a 
Bible,  and  t'other  burns  it.  Ono  tolerates,  and  t'other  intolerates. 
They  hate  each  other  like  pyson,  and  use  words  which  we  call  im- 
pious. They  fight  even  in  death,  for  they  won't  sleep  side  by  side 
in  the  same  grave-yard.  Oh  !  it's  no  uso  talkin',  Captin  Colingwood, 
Christianity  should  be  intrusted  to  the  church  to  teach  savages,  and 
not  to  Tom,  Dick  and  Harry.  False  teachin'  and  bad  examples 
bring  rum,  ruin,  disease,  treachery,  and  death  to  the  Indians.  I  don't 
wonder  Johny  Nogood,  who  knew  our  favorite  oath,  said  :  '  Now 
man,  I  say  damn.'  " 

"  Slick,"  said  Cutler,  "  I  never  heard  you  talk  so  well  afore. 
There  is  a  great  deal  of  truth,  in  that,  although  you  have  put  it  in 
a  way  to  make  my  flesh  crawl." 

Says  I,  "  Cutler,  I  haven't  put  it  half  strong  enough;  but  I  actilly 
thought  Sophy  (Oh  Lord  !  I  thought  I  should  have  died,  for  it  came 
out  afore  old  Colingwood  so  sudden ;  but  I  went  right  ahead,  for  if 
you  get  into  a  slough  or  honey  pot,  you  can't  stop,  you  must  whip 
up,  yielk,  talk  slang,  and  bully  the  team,  and  put  them  through,  for 
if  you  hold  on  one  minute,  the  cattle  can't  or  won't  start  the  load 
agin,  and  you  arc  in  a  pretty  frizzle  of  a  fix,  so  I  went  right  ahead) 
or  dear  little  Mary,  (as  if  Sophy  wasn't  twice  as  dear)  and  Aunt 
Thankful,  and  all  were  present,  for  in  course  we  talk  more  resarved 
afore  ladies,  than  by  ourselves.  But  still,"  sais  I,  a  lightin'  of  my 
candle,  and  risin'  to  go  to  bed  (for  I  wanted  to  think  of  Sophy  and 
not  of  savages),  "  depend  upon  it,  Colingwood — man  to  man,  face  to 
face,  and  without  bunkum,  I  don't  wonder  when  an  Indian  looks  at 
us  and  says,  'Now  man,  I  say  damn.'  "* 

*  Two  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  very  similar  remarks  were  made  by 
a  French  gentleman,  who  has  left  us  an  interesting  account  of  his  visit  to 
Novaoootia:  "  Et  ne  faut  point  m'all6guer  ici  lo  pr6texto  de  la  religion. 
Car  (comme  nous  avons  dit  ailleurs)  ils  ont  tout  tuez  les  originaires  du  pais 
avec  des  supplices  lea  plus  inhumains  que  le  diable  a  peu  excogiter.  Et 
par  leurs  cruautds  ont  rendu  le  nom  de  Dieu  un  nom  de  scandalo  a  ces 
pauvres  peuples,  et  I'ont  blasphem6  continuellement  par  chacun  jour  au 
milieu  des  Gentils,  ainsi  que  le  Prophfete  le  reproche  au  peuple  d'Israel. 
Tdmoin  celui  qui  aima  mieux  estre  damne  que  d'aller  au  paradis  des  Hes- 
pagnols." — Lescarh  ''s  Hist,  de  La  JVonvelle  Prance,  ■g.  4.83.    .  v   ,,/■> 


.^.ajlw 


ue£ 


AUNT  THANKFUL  AND  HER  ROOM. 


W 


•v"***  >.■:*'    r  "''. 


CHAPTER   XX, 


■'/'"'       AUNT    THANKFUL    AND    HER    ROOM; 


The  first  thing  I  did  when  I  went  to  my  bed-room  was  to  pax)k 
up  my  things.  I  never  draw  on  to-morrow.  It  is  like  anticipatin' 
one's  income  and  maJcin'  the  future  hear  the  expeiises  of  the  past. 
When  a  thing  is  done,  it  is  off  your  mind.  To  carry  care  to  bed  is 
to  sleep  with  a  pack  on  your  hack.  That's  my  logic,  as  the  pilot 
sais.  Well,  when  that  was  done,  I  hops  into  bed,  and  now,  sais  I  to 
myself,  Sam,  s'posin'  as  wo  arc  alone  here,  and  it  aiLt  overly  late. ' 
we  have  a  littlo  quiet  talk  together. 

What  do  you  think  of  to-day's  work? 

Well,  I  think  it  is  about  as  pleasant  a  day  as  I  ev^r  passed  in  my 
life.  As  for  Sophy,  she  is  splendiferous,  and  no  mistake.  I  guess 
I'm  in  for  it  this  hitch. 

Well,  sais  I  agin,  aint  she  prudish,  or  cold,  or  calculatin'  or  some- 
thin'  or  another  of  that  sort ;  aint  there  a  little  grain  of  Aunt  Thank- 
ful's  starch  in  her.  S'posin'  we  run  over  the  events  as  they  occurred, 
and  consider  them  separate,  and  then  put  the  parts  all  together,  and" 
see  how  they  work. 

Well,  I  goes  over  all  in  my  mind,  till  I  throws  tho  Hno  over  the 
brook,  to  give  little  Jemmy  his  first  lesson,  and  gets  tho  first  trout, 
and  the  pull  ho  gave  jerked  my  hand  off  my  eyes,  and  I  was  asleep 
in  a  minute  as  fast  as  a  pine-stump. 

A  little  afore  day  I  wakes  up,  and  rubs  my  eyes,  and  I  thought  I 
Leered  some  one  a  movin',  so  says  I,  steward,  how  is  her  head  ?  But 
steward  didn't  answer,  so  I  answered  for  him  ;  Pretty  well  I  tbauk 
you.  Sir.  How  is  yourn  ?  And  that  made  me  laugh ;  but  still  I 
was  a  little  bewildered.  I  thought  I  was  on  board  the  'Black 
Hawk ;'  but  I  stretched  out  my  leg  first  on  one  side  aad  then  on  the 
other,  and  found  I  was  in  bed.  >     -     '^  ?-        iViiiv?:      V 

Yes,  sais  I,  a-bed,  that's  sartain  j  but  where  ?  Oh,  I  have  it !  at 
Squire  Collingwood's.  Why,  Sam,  sais  I,  it  aint  possible  you  are  in 
love,  when  even  the  thought  of  dear  Sophy  couldn't  keep  you  awake 
for  half  an  hour.  But  I  am  tho',  that's  a  fact.  Oh  dear,  what 
nonsense  people  talk  about  love,  don't  they?  Sleepless  nights — 
broken  dreams — beatin'  hearts — pale  faces — a  pinin'  away  to  shaders 
— fits  of  absence — loss  of  appetite — narvous  flutterin's,  and  all  that. 
I  haven't  got  the  symptoms,  but  I'll  swear  to  the  disease. 

Folks  take  this  talk,  I  guess,  from  poetL ;  and  they  are  miserable, 
mooney  soifc  of  critters,  half  mad  and  whole  lazy,  who  would  rather 


Alt 


iMsji; 


wmmm 


mm 


"^ 


204 


AUNT    THANKFUL    AND    HER    ROOM. 


take  a  da/s  dream  than  a  day's  work  any  time,  and  catcli  rhymes  as 
niggers  catch  flies,  to  pass  time — hearts  and  darts,  cupid  and  stupid, 
purlin'  streams  and  rulin'  dr  ins,  and  so  on.  It's  all  bunkum! 
Spooney  looks  and  spooney  words  may  do  for  schoolboys  and  semi- 
nary galls ;  but  for  a  man  like  me,  and  an  angeliferons  critter  like 
Sophy,  love  must  be  like  electricity  —  eye  for  eye,  and  heart  for 
heart,  telegraphed  backwards  and  forwards  like  'iled  lightnin'. 

Well,  sais  I  to  myself,  confound  the  thing,  Sam,  you  didn't  make 
no  great  headway  nuther,  did  you,  tho'  you  did  go  it  pretty  strong  ? 
Thinks  I  again,  you  haven't  had  no  great  experience  in  these  matters, 
Sam,  and  that's  just  where  you  made  the  mistake.  You  went  at  it 
too  strong.  Courtin'  a  gall,  I  guess,  is  like  catchin'  a  young  horse 
in  the  pastur'.  You  put  the  oats  in  a  pan,  hide  the  halter,  and  soft- 
sawder  the  critter,  and  it  comes  up  softly  and  shyly  at  first,  and  puts 
its  nose  to  the  grain,  and  get's  a  taste,  stands  off  and  munches  a 
little,  looks  round  to  see  that  the  coast  is  clear,  and  advanfies  cautious 
again,  ready  for  a  go  if  you  are  rough.  Well,  you  soft-sawder  it  all 
the  time  : — so-so,  pet !  gently,  pet !  that's  a  pretty  doll !  and  it  gets 
to  kind  a  like  it,  and  comes  closer,  and  you  think  you  haVe  it,  make 
a  grab  at  its  mane,  and  it  nps  head  and  tail,  snorts,  wheels  short 
round,  lets  go  both  hind-feet  at  you,  and  off  like  a  shot. 

That  comes  of  being  in  a  hurry.  Now,  if  you  had  put  your  hand 
up  slowly  towards  its  shoulder,  and  felt  along  tho  neck  for  the  mane, 
it  might  perhaps  have  drawed  away,  as  much  as  to  say,  hands  off,  if 
you  please;  I  like  your  oats,  but  I  don't  want  you,  the  chance  is  you 
would  have  caught  it.  Well,  what's  your  play  now  you  have  missed 
it?  Why,  you  don't  give  chase,  for  that  only  scares  a  critter;  but 
you  stand  still,  shake  the  oats  in  the  pan,  and  say,  cope,  cope,  cope ! 
and  it  stops,  looks  at  you,  and  comes  up  again,  but  awful  skittish, 
stretches  its  neck  out  ever  so  far,  steals  a  few  grains,  and  then  keeps 
a  respectful  distance.  Now  what  do  you  do  then  ?  Why,  shake 
the  pan,  and  move  slowly,  as  if  you  were  goin'  to  leave  tho  pastur 
and  make  for  hum ;  when  it  repents  of  beiu'  so  distrustful,  comes 
up,  and  you  slips  the  halter  on. 

Now  more  nor  half  of  all  that  work  is  lost  by  bein'  in  too  big  a 
hurry.  That's  just  the  case  with  Sophy.  You  showed  her  the  hal- 
ter too  soon,  and  it  skeered  her.  I  see  it  all  now,  as  plain  as  a  new 
floor-board,"  sais  I.  It  stands  to  natur.  Put  one  strange  horse  in  a 
pastur,  and  another  in  the  next  one,  and  artor  a  while  they  will  go 
to  the  fence,  and  like  as  not,  when  they  look  over  at  each  other, 
snap  and  bite  as  cross  as  anything,  as  much  as  to  say,  you  keep  your 
side  and  I'll  keep  mine.  I  never  saw  you  before,  and  I  don't  like 
your  looks.  Arter  an  hour  or  so,  they  will  go  and  look  at  each  other 
agin ;  and  that  time  they  won't  bite,  but  they  breathe  together,  and 
rub  their  heads  together,  and  at  last  do  the  friendly  by  brushin'  the 
flies  from  each  other's  neck.     Arter  tha|;;  there  is  a  treaty  of  peace 


T-ii., 


AUWT    THANKFUL    AND    HEE    ROOM. 


206 


sigued,  and  tbey  turn  to  and  knock  the  fence  down,  (for  it  is  very 
lonely  to  feed  in  h  field  by  oneself),  and  go  wanderin*  about  showin' 
each  other  the  best  grass.  Yes,  Sophy,  I  see  where  I  missed  a 
iigurej  and  if  I  remain  of  the  same  mind  as  I  am  now,  see  if  I 
don't  slip  the  halter  round  your  neck  before  you  know  where  you 
be.     Or  say  I  can't  catch  a  boss  or  a  gall,  that's  all. 

But  I  must  be  a  movin'  now,  so  as  not  to  disturb  folks,  So  I 
lights  the  candle,  and  goes  down  softly  to  the  front  entry,  and  puts 
down  my  traps  to  be  sent  for;  and  just  as  I  was  a  goin'  to  open  the 
door,  the  black  house-help.  Rose,  comes  from  the  other  end  of  the 
buildin*,  and  says,  "  This  way,  please.  Master  Slick.  Marm  Thank- 
ful will  be  here  in  a  few  minutes,  and  hopes  you  will  sit  down  in 
this  room  till  she  comes;"  and  closin'  the  door  on  me,  vanished. 
There  was  a  small  wood-fire  burnin'  in  the  chimney,  and  two  lighted 
candles  stood  on  one  of  the  tables,  so  that  everything  was  as  clear 
as  noonday.  Oh,  Jerusalem !  sais  I,  what  in  creation  is  all  this  ? 
Here  is  a  room,  that  looks  as  if  it  must  have  been  cut  out  of  the  old 
family  house  in  New  York  State,  and  fetched  down,  bolus  bolus,  as 
it  stood ;  for  there  aint  anything  hardly  in  it  as  new  as  herself,  and 
she  is  seventy  years  old,  if  she  is  a  day.  Note  it  all  down  for  your 
journal,  for  sister  Sal;  for  though  you  have  seen  most  of  these 
things  as  odds  and  ends,  you  never  saw  them  all  brought  together 
before,  and  never  will  again.     So  I  up  and  at  it. 

I  paced  the  floor ;  it  was  twenty-two  by  twenty.  The  carpet  was 
a  square  of  dark  cloth,  not  so  large  as  the  whole  floor,  and  instead 
of  a  pattern,  had  different  colored  pieces  on  it,  cut  out  in  the  shape 
of  birds  and  beasts,  and  secured  and  edged  with  variegated  worsted 
in  chain-stitch.  In  one  corner  stood  an  old-fashioned  eight-day 
clock,  in  a  black  oak  case,  with  enormous  gilt  hinges.  In  the  oppo- 
site one  was  a  closet,  made  angular  to  fit  the  shape  of  the  wall,  with 
a  glass  front,  to  preserve  and  exhibit  large  silver  tankards;  Dutch 
wiuo-glasses,  very  high  in  the  stem,  made  of  blue  glass,  with  mugs 
to  match,  richly  gilt,  though  showin'  marks  of  wear,  as  well  as  age : 
a  very  old  China  bowl,  and  so  on.  " 

In  one  of  the  deep  recesses  formed  by  the  chimbly  stood  an  old 
spinet,  the  voice  of  which  probably  was  cracked  before  that  of  its 
mistress,  and,  like  her.  had  forgot  its  music.  In  the  other  was  a 
mahogany  bureau,  with  numerous  drawers,  growin'  gradually  less 
and  less  in  depth  and  size,  till  it  nearly  reached  the  ceilin',  and  ter- 
minatin'  in  a  cone,  surmounted  by  a  gilt  parrot;  not  a  bad  emblem 
for  a  chatty  old  lady-bird,  who  is  apt  to  repeat  over  and  over  the 
same  thing. 

The  jambs  of  the  fire-place,  which  was  very  capacious,  were  orna- 
mented with  bright  glazed  tiles,  havin'  landscapes,  rcprcscntin'  wiud- 
niills,  summer-iiouses  in  swamps,  canal  boats,  in  which  you  could  see 
nothin'  but  tobacco-pipes  for  the  smoke,  and  other  Dutch  opulent 
18    ' 


.'^' 


■'  ■' 


ii 


: 


fei  '1  'i 


206 


mmm 


AUNT    THANKFUL    AND    HER    RO(|M, 


luxuries  painted  on  tliem.  On  one  side  of  these  were  suspended  a 
very  long  toastin'-fork  and  a  pair  of  bellows ;  and  on  the  other  a 
worked  kettle-holder,  an  almanac,  and  a  duster  made  of  the  wing  of 
a  bird.  ':   .-'.'^^.:;  :'^  i  '>..W.  ^- .:  ..-XK 

^  The  mantel-piece,  which  was  high,  was  set  off  with, a  cocoa-nut 
bowl,  carved,  polished,  and  supported  by  three  silver  feet  j  an  ostrich 
egg,  and  a  little  antique  China  tea-pot,  about  as  large  as  a  sizable 
cup.  Two  largo  high  brass  dog-irons,  surmounted  by  hollow  balls, 
supported  the  fire.  The  chairs  were  of  mahogany,  high  and  rather 
straight  in  the  back,  which  had  open  cross  bar-work.  Two  of  these 
wfere  arm-chairs,  on  one  of  which  (Aunt  Thankful's  own)  hung  a 
patch-work  bag,  from  which  long  knittin'-needles  and  a  substantial 
yarn-stockin'  protruded.  All  had  cushions  of  crimson  cloth,  worked 
with  various  patterns,  and  edged  with  chain-stitch,  and  intended  to 
match  the  curtains,  which  were  similar.  There  was  no  table  in  the 
centre  of  the  room,  and  but  two  in  it,  which  were  much  higher  than 
modern  ones,  with  several  little  spindly  legs  to  each,  makin'  up  in 
number  what  they  wanted  in  size.  On  the  largest  stood  two  old- 
fashioned  cases,  with  the  covers  thrown  back  to  exhibit  the  silver- 
handled  knives,  which  rose  tier  above  tier,  like  powdered  heads  in  a 
theatre,  that  all  might  be  seen.  Beside  them  was  a  silver  filigree 
tea-caddy. 

On  the  smaller  table,  stood  a  little  hand-bell  and  a  large  family 
Bible  with  enormous  clasps,  a  Prayer-book,  and  the  "  Whole  Duty 
of  Man."  It  was  a  funny  idea  that  too.  I  took  it  for  granted  it 
was  a  receipt-book,  or  a  family  medicine-book,  or  a  cookery-book,  or 
a  female  book  of  some  sort  or  another;  but  no — ^it  was  the  *'  Whole 
Duty  of  Man !" 

Ah,  Aunt  Thankful !  confess  now,  warn't  there  a  little  curiosity 
in  you  to  find  out  what  the  "Whole  Duty  of  Man"  was?  Well, 
they  don't  do  their  duty,  or  one  of  them  would  a  gone  down  on  his 
marrow-bones,  and  begged  the  honor  of  your  hand,  long  and  long 
ago ;  and  they  never  will  do  their  duty.  But  you  will  be  here  be- 
fore I  have  half-finished  my  inventory;  and  Sally  will  scold  if  I 
don't  tell  her  about  the  walls,  and  say  I  haven't  done  my  dut^. 

Well,  between  the  winders  was  a  very  large  lookin' -glass,  in  an 
old  dark,  carved  mahogany  frame ;  a  yellow  sampler,  with  the  letters 
of  the  alphabet;  a  moral  lesson,  "Remember  thy  Creator  in  the 
days  of  thy  youth,"  and  the  name  of  the  artist,  "  Thankful  Colling- 
wood,  1790,  aged  ten  years,"  worked  on  it;  and  a  similar  one,  cou- 
tainin'  a  family  coat-of-arms,  executed  on  the  same  material,  and  by 
the  same  hand,  though  at  a  later  date,  were  substantially  framed, 
and  protected  by  glass.  Two  portraits  of  military  men,  in  oils,  re- 
markably well  painted,  completed  the  collection ;  each  of  which  was 
decorated  with  long  peacock's  feathers. 
^    Now,  Sally,  that's  Aunt  Thankful' s  room ;  aud  I  am  thankful  I 


i&-'- 


AUN-fT    THANKFUL    AND     HER    ROOM. 


20T, 


have  finished  it.  But,  stop  —  what  the  plague  does  she  want  with 
me  ?  Is  she  an  envoy  extraordinary,  as  we  say,  to  the  Court  of  St. 
James's,  from  Sophy  to  declare  non-intercourse  ?  I  guess  not.  She 
has  spunk  enough  to  do  that  herself,  if  she  wanted;  or  from  Mary, 
about  Mr.  Hopewell's  church  ?  She  knows  she  has  only  to  ask  me 
for  it  herself  to  get  it,  or  anythin'  I  have.  From  herself?  Oh,  the 
devil !  said  I :  no,  that  can't  be.  I  am  sure  the  "  Whole  Duty  of 
Man"  is  agin'  marryin'  your  grandmother.  I  know  Mr.  Hopewell 
told  me  it  was  agin  the  law ;  but  whether  he  said  canon  law,  civil 
law,  ecclesiastical  law,  Levitical  law,  law  of  England,  or  the  United 
States'  law,  hang  me,  if  I  don't  disremember  j  for  I  never  intended 
to  do  it,  so  I  forget  where  he  said  to  look  for  it.  I  have  got  it,  said 
I:  she  thinks  it  aint  suitable  for  the  young  ladies  to  go  to  Slickville 
without  her.  Well,  prhaps  it  is  agin  the  "whole  duty  of  woman/' 
and  I'll  ask  the  good  old  soul  too. 

Poor  Aunt  Thankful !  it's  others  ought  to  be  thankful  to  you, 
that's  a  fact,  for  your  post  aint  easy.  We  uncles  and  aunts  have 
enough  to  do.  tjncle  pays  for  all,  and  aunt  works  for  all.  The 
children  don't  mind  you  like  a  mother,  and  the  servants  don't  obey 
you  like  the  rael  head  of  the  house  nother.  Is  there  one  of  the 
party  to  stay  to  home  ?  it's  aunt.  Is  there  any  one  to  get  up  early, 
and  to  be  the  last  to  lock  doors,  and  to  look  to  fires  ?  it's  aunty.  Is 
there  company  to  home,  who  takes  charge  of  the  house?  Why 
aunty  to  be  sure.  If  you  haven't  got  money  enough  for  what  you 
want,  there  is  some  doubloons  still  left  in  the  eend  of  Aunt  Thank- 
ful's  stockin'.  You  didn't  return  the  last  three  you  borrowed;  but 
coax  her,  she  is  so  good-natured  and  so  kind.  Get  her  to  tell  that 
story  about  Prince  Edward,  Duke  of  Kent,  and  her  eyes,  and  say, 
well,  aunt,  they  must  have  been  beautiful,  for  they  are  still  so  hand- 
some ;  how  near  you  came  being  the  Duchess  of  Kent  (that's  the 
soft  spot,  with  three  tender  places  in  it,  first  to  be  married,  second 
to  be  a  duchess,  and  third  to  be  the  mother  of  a  queen) ;  go  right 
on  without  stoppin'.  Aunty,  if  you  would  lend  me  just  one  doub- 
loon ?  you  shall  have  it  again  soon.  Ah !  you  rogue,  you  didn't 
pay  the  last  three  you  got.  I'll  trust  you  this  once  though,  but 
mind,  I  never  will  again.     There  now,  mind  it's  the  last  time. 

Then  aunty  dear,  if  you  have  some  disagreeable  things  to  do  and 
to  bear  —  who  hasn't?  Oh!  you  have  some  such  pleasant  duties, 
that  I  envy  you.  The  family  hospital  is  under  your  sole  command, 
scarlet-fever,  hoopin' -cough,  measles,  chilblains,  sore  throats,  and 
consumption — not  all  at  once,  and  then  ever  so  much  of  it  that  you 
get  tired,  but  one  at  a  time,  with  spaces  between  to  keep  up  the  in- 
terest—  and  the  blisters,  no  one  can  handle  like  you,  and  you  do 
make  such  lovely  poultices,  and  sweet  salves,  and  are  such  a  grand 
hand  at  a  scald,  a  burn,  a  cut,  or  a  shot-wound. 


208 


AUNT    THANKFUL    AND    HER    ROt)M. 


"  Well,  there's  no  use  a  talkin'  about  it,"  sais  I,  speakin*  aloud, 
"  I  do  love  her  \" 

The  door  opened,  and  there  stood  Aunt  Thankful.  She  paused  a 
moment  confused-like.  That  avowal  of  mine  puzzled  her.  My  !  if 
she  wasn't  a  pictur'  !  She  was  tall,  thin,  and  fair.  Her  forehead, 
which  made  up  in  height  what  it  was  deficient  in  breadth,  was  some- 
what disfigured,  by  bavin'  the  hair  cut  across  the  middle.  The  rest, 
rather  grizzled  than  grey,  was  parted,  and  partly  concealed  by  a  mob- 
cap  of  stiffened  muslin,  high  in  the  crown,  with  lappets  extendin'  to 
the  shoulder,  and  secured  by  a  black-silk  fillet,  round  the  head. 
The  only  ornaments  I  could  see  were  a  pair  of  short  ear-rings,  and  a 
necklace  or  string  of  gold  beads  round  the  throat. 

She  had  on  a  white  dimity,  high-bodied,  short  gown,  extendin'  a 
little  below  the  hips,  and  enclosin'  a  beautifully-starched,  clear, 
white  handkerchief,  and  fastened  by  a  girdle  of  white-cotton  cord, 
terminatin'  in  two  tassels  pendant  in  front.  To  this  was  attached, 
on  the  right  side,  a  large  steel  bunch  of  snap-rings;  the  uppermost 
supported  a  thick,  clumsy-lookin'  gold  watch,  of  antique  manufac- 
ture, the .  face,  for  security,  restin'  agin  her  person,  and  the  wrought 
back  exhibitin'  no  design,  but  much  labour  and  skill,  resembling 
somewhat  brain-stone  tracery.  From  another  was  suspended,  by  a 
long  ribbon,  a  pair  of  scissors  in  a  steel-case,  and  a  red  cloth  pin- 
cushion, and  from  the  rest,  keys  of  various  sizes. 

The  sleeves  of  the  gown  were  loose,  reached  a  little  below  the 
elbow,  and  terminated  in  long,  gray,  kid  mitts,  coverin'  half  the 
hand,  the  low^er  part  bein'  so  fashioned  as  to  turn  backwards  towards 
the  wrist  in  a  point.  The  petticoat  was  made  of  shiny  black  shal- 
loon, rather  short,  and  exhibitin'  to  advantage  a  small  foot  in  a  high- 
heeled  shoe  of  the  same  material,  and  a  neat  ancle  incased  in  a  white 
cotton  stockin',  with  open  clocks. 

Such  was  Aunt  Thankful.  She  looked  round  puzzled-like,  to  see 
if  I  was  a  talkin'  to  any  one  in  the  room,  or  was  addressin'  her,  and 
at  last  courtseyin*  advanced,  and  shook  hands  with  me. 

"  I  could  not  think,  Mr.  Slick,"  she  said,  "  of  lettin'  you  go 
away  without  a  cup  of  tea,  and  as  I  am  an  early  riser,  I  thought  you 
wouldn't  object  to  takin'  it  with  an  old  woman  like  me,  even  if 
the  young  ladies  were  not  present  ?" 

Takin'  one  of  the  candles,  and  proceediu'  to  '>;he  closet,  she  took  up 
one  of  the  gilt  glasses,  and  unfoldin'  a  napkin,  and  carefully  wipin' 
it,  she  poured  out  a  glass  of  pale  yaller  liquor. 

^'  Take  this,  Mr.  Slick,"  she  said,  "  it  is  some  bitters  I  made 
myself  It  is  a  wholesome  tiling  on  this  foggy  coast  before  break- 
fast, and  promotes  appetite." 

Well,  in  a  gineral  way  my  twist  is  considerable.  Pharaoh's  lean 
kine  are  a  caution  to  sinners  in  the  eatin'  line,  and  my  appetite  don't 
wan't  provokin' ;  but  anythin'  a  lady  makes  herself  you  must  take ; 


AUNT    THANKFUL    AND    HER    ROOM 


2(^b 


kin'  aloud, 

le  paused  a 
.  My !  if 
r  forehead, 
,  was  some- 
The  rest, 
I  by  a  mob- 
ixtendin'  to 
,  the  head, 
rings,  and  a 

extendin'  a 
ched,  clear, 
cotton  cord, 
as  attached, 
e  uppermost 
ae  manufac- 
the  wrought 
,  resembling 
pended,  by  a 
d  cloth  pin- 

■•■".■  "''■ , 
e  below  the 
in'  half  the 
ards  towards 
black  shal- 
lot in  a  high- 
id  in  a  white 

[-like,  to  see 
isin'  her,  and 

|ttin'  you  go 
thought  you 
me,  even  if 

|;,  she  took  up 
jfully  wipin' 

tors  I  made 
[efcre  break- 

^araoh's  lean 

apetite  don't 

must  take ; 


fact  18, 1  never  could  swaller  physic  unless  a  woman  gave  it  to  me. 
It  aint  civil  to  refuse,  so  I  took  the  glass,  held  it  up  to  the  light, 
and  it  was  as  clear  as  racked  cider, 

"Well,"  said  I,  with  a  very  admirin'  smile,  "you  do  look  beau- 
tiful, and  your  complexion  is  as  clear  as  a  bell." 

"  Oh  Mr.  Slick !"  said  she. 

I  thought  I  should  have  busted;  I  was  a  takin'  of  the  liquor, 
and  she  was  a-thinkin'  of  herself.  I  wonder  what  is  the  age  a  fem- 
inine gives  over  vanity,  or  gives  up  hopes.  I'll  ask  Professor  JSillj/- 
man,  who  is  a  great  nateral  philosopher,  to  tell  me  this  fact  about 
silli/  women  j  and  if  he  can't,  perhaps  Cardinal  irise-man  can,  for 
old  galls  have  to  confess  their  weaknesses  as  well  as  young  ones. 

"Madam,"  says  I  "my  sarvice  to  you,"  and  I  made  her  a  low 
bow,  and  tossed  it  off.  Lord,  if  it  warnt  bitter,  then  there  are  no 
snakes  in  Virginny.  It  was  strong  enough  to  pucker  the  mouth  of 
an  aligator;  so  he  couldn't  open  it  without  usin'  cod-liver  oil.  "  Oh 
that  is  grand !"  said  I. 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  it,"  said  she,  "  and  I'll  give  you  a  receipt." 

How  strange  it  is,  no  created  critter  wants  to  learn,  but  every  one 
wants  to  instruct.  The  grand  secret  of  life  is  to  hear  lessons,  and 
not  to  teach  them.  Who  the  plague  ever  liked  a  schoolmaster  ? 
Vanity,  vanity !  all  is  vanity,  says  the  preacher !  Well,  that  text 
aint  read  right  in  general.  Ministers  discourse  on  it  as  if  all  worldly 
things  were  of  no  use.  The  rael  meanin'  of  it  is  "  the  vanity  of 
fools  is  the  wisdom  of  the-  wise ."  Poor  thing !  she  didn't  know 
that,  but  I  did.     Says  she,  I'll  give  you  a  receipt. 

"  Thank  you.  Madam,"  said  I,  "  and  when  I  come  here  on  my 
return,  I  shall  be  most  grateful ;  but  I  am  afeard  I  must  be  a  movin'. 
1  am  skeered,  lest  I  should  wake  the  folks  up." 

She  rang  her  little  silver  bell,  and  in  came  Rose  with  the  break- 
fast-tray, containin'  the  teapot — the  tiniest  I  ever  seen — it  wouldn't 
hold  a  good-sizeable  glass  of  grog,  sugar-bowl  and  cream-jug  of  the> 
same  dimensions,  a  plate  of  buttered  toast  cut  into  squares  two  inch- 
es long,  and  p'l^d  up  like  a  high  chimney,  and  two  little  dishes  of 
presarves.  Tamks  I,  old  lady,  it  was  worth  while  to  make  a  feller 
swaller  bitters  to  get  an  appetite  for  all  this,  warnt  it  ? 

"Will  you  try  a  little  quince,  Sir?  it  is  some  I  preserved 
myself." 

"  Quince,  is  it  ?"  said  I,  "  the  best  flavour  to  my  mind  of  any  ■ 
that  is  made.     Dear  me,"  sais  I,  "  how  tender,  it's  delicious,  that's 
a  fact.     It's  easy  to  sec  who  prepared  it."  ,.' 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  it.  Sir.  The  great  secret  is  to  pulverize  the 
loaf-sugar  complete  before  it  is  put  on  the  fruit,  or  the  scum  won't 
rise  well,  and  to  cover  the  quinces  when  bilin',  if  you  want  them  to 
have  a  beautiful  colour."  ^    '"^•'  '    '^'''^"<  ^  T^ 

"So  I've  heard  mother  say,"  sais  I,  "and  she  was  a  grand  hand 
18* 


mi 


i 


210 


AUNT    THANKFUL    AND    HER    ROOM, 


*'''W 


at  all  kinds  of  presarving.  I've  heerd  her  say,  when  she  wanted 
anythin'  super-superior,  she  clarified  the  syrups  first,  and  actilly 
filtered  the  water." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Slick,'^  said  she,  "  how  on  airth  do  you  pick  up  all 
them  things  ?  If  I  was  a  young  lady,  I  should  be  amost  afcard  you 
knew  too  much,  so  as  to  make  you  too  particular.  Know  how  to 
preserve  quinces  ?     Well,  I  want  to  know  I"         ':;,^r  ^ :■.;;:>■ 

"  Yes,"  sais  I,  "  and  how  to  eat  them  too,  when  they  are  prepared 
by  Madame  Thankful.     Mother  couldn't  hold  a  candle  to  you." 

'  "Well,  I  must  say,"  she  said,  "I  do  rather  pride  myself  on  my 
quinces.  I'll  tell  you  how  I  learned  the  secret  of  it.  You  didn't 
know  Prince  Edward,  who  was  made  Duke  of  Kent,  tho'  why  I 
never  could  understand ;  for  Princes  always  seemed  bigger  than  dukes 
to  me  ?  No,  no !  you  couldn't  have  know'd  him.  Well,  he  was 
very  fond  of  presarved  quinces,  and  Mrs  Finley,  a  friend  of  Lady 
Wentworth's  (that  was  the  Governor's  lady)  used  to  prepare  them 
with  her  own  hands,  in  the  way  she  learned  to  New  Hampshire — 
for  she,  as  well  as  Sir  John,  came  from  that  colony  to  Nova  Scotia. 
I  was  on  a  visit  to  Government  House  then,  and  Mrs.  Finley  said, 
'  Thankful  I  am  goin'  to  preserve  some  New  York  quinces  to-day  for 
his  Royal  Highness,  come  and  help  me,  and  I  will  let  you  into  the 
mysteries  of  confections.' 

" '  What !  do  king's  sons  like  quinces  ?'  said  I, 

"  *  Yes,  and  kisses  too,  dear !'  .  =; . 

"'Oh,  Mrs.  Finley,'  said  I,  'how  you  do  talk.' 

"Well,  that's  the  way  I  larned  how  to  do  them  so  nice." 

Thinks  I  to  myself,    "  Old  lady,  which  do  you  mean  ?" 
didn't  say  so,  all  I  said  was,  ''  Quinces  and  kisses  will  always  go 
together  in  my  mind  hereafter !"  ■-■  -        ^  '       ^^    ;"— 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Slick  !"  said  she,  "  how  you  do  go  on.  *  You  talk  just 
as  Mrs.  Finley  did.  Ah  me !  that  was  the  last  time  I  ever  was  in 
Halifax.  The  evenin'  of  that  very  day  we  was  all  at  the  Prince's 
Lodge,  to  a  ball  there.  Little  did  I  think  I  was  a-talkin'  to  the 
father  of  the  future  Queen  of  England !  '  Miss  Collingwood,'  sais 
he,  'you  don't  seem  in  your  usual  spirits  to-night.' 

"  '  Please  your  Royal — '  " 

It  was  evidently  a  stereotyped  story,  all  ready  to  bind  up  in  any 
work,  and  as  there  was  somethin'  in  it  the  young  ladies  didn't  want 
me  to  hear  (for  the  night  afore  she  got  on  the  same  subject,  and  they 
drew  her  oft"  from  it),  I  cut  in,  "  Is  either  of  those  pictures  a  portrait 
of  him  ?"  said  I. 

"  Yes,"  Baid  she,  takin'  up  a  candle,  and  pointin'  to  one  of  them, 
"that  is  his  Royal  Highness  Prince  Edward.  Aint  he  a  noble- 
lookin'  man  ?  He  presented  it  to  papa,  who  was  very  fond  of  him, 
and  always  said  he  was  an  excellent  officer."  And  then,  turnin'  to 
t>he  windoWj  which  had  a  deep  recess  that  formed  a  scat,  she  touched 


but  I 


AUNT  THANKFUL  AND  HER  ROOM. 


2ii 


e  wanted 
id  actilly 

ick  up  all 
ifeard  you 
)W  how  to 


e  prepared 
you." 
self  on  my 
You  didn't 
ho'  why  I 
than  dukes 
ell,  he  was 
id  of  Lady 
epare  them 
ampshire— 
lova  Scotia. 
Finley  said, 
js  to-day  for 
^ou  into  the 


an 


V  but  I 
always  go 


3U  talk  just 

ever  was  in 

le  Prince's 

iin'  to  the 

gwood,'  sais 


id  up  in  any 
didn't  want 

ect,  and  they 
es  a  portrait 

)ne  of  thera, 

he  a  noble- 

bnd  of  him, 

n,  turnin'  to 

she  touched 


a  spring,  and  opened  the  lid,  or  cover,  and  took  out  a  brass-mounted 
desk,  or  rather  small  trunk,  and  said,  — "  That,  Mr.  Slick,  con- 
tains all  the  Prince's  correspondence  with  my  father,  and  all  the 
letters  of  his  to  others  that  could  be  collected ;  also,  his  Royal  High- 
ness's  orderly-books,  thirteen  of  thera ;  and  also  my  poor  father's 
journal,  while  the  Prince  was  here  and  at  Gibraltar,  and  all  my 
father's  campainsin  the  rebellion  in  the  States." 

''•  Revolution  we  call  it  now.  Madam,"  sais  I. 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  do ;  but  father  always  said  rebellion  was  the 
right  name,  and  the  gallows  the  right  remedy." 

''  Back  your  cart,  Sam,"  said  I,  "  or  you'll  stick  in  that  soft  spot, 
I  know.  That  box  you  must  have  by  hook  or  by  crook,  so  put  your 
best  foot  foremost."  ,   ■'•;*,;>>> 

"Mr.  Slick,"  said  she,  and  she  took  off  her  spectacles  and  wiped 
her  eyes,  "  that  box  contains  everythin'  valuable  that  I  possess  in 
the  world." 

"  Now,"  sais  I,  "  make  a  desperate  throw  for  that  box,  and  then 
be  off.     Except  one,"  said  I.        ,•    ^    ...,'*.•.;•,  . 

"And  what  is  that,  pray?" 

"J'he  kindest  heart,"  said  I,  "  that  ever  woman  had.  If  his 
Royal  Highness  had  added  praises  to  that,  also,  when  he  admired 
the  eyes,  he  would  have  done  you  no  more  than  justice." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Slick  !"  she  said,  "  don't  talk  in  that  way  !" 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  I  feel  hurt.  Do  you  suppose  I  would  say 
what  I  didn't  mean  ?  Your  brother  says  so;  your  beautiful  nieces 
say  so ;  the  whole  neighbourhood  say  so  ;  and  why  shouldn't  I  say 
so?  I  shall  never  forget  this  visit;  but  above  all,  this  mornin',  this 
room  —  yourself  —  that  invaluable  box.  I  admire  this  room — it's 
feminine.  It's  a  lady's  ow7i  room  —  nothin'  male  in  it:  no  guns, 
fishin'-rods,  bows,  arrows,  moose-horns,  whips,  spurs  and  so  on.  I 
like  it,  it's  unique  and  antique,  as  they  shy  to  the  Court  of  St. 
Jiraes',  Victoria.  After  the  check  you  gave  me  jist  now,  I  won't 
say  anythin'  about  how  much  I  admire  i/oii;  but  in  two  hours,  I 
shall  hope  to  be  the  owner  of  a  perfect  sketch  of  you." 

"Oh  no,  Mr.  Slick  !  not  in  this  dress.  If  you  do  take  me,  let  it 
be  in  my  splendid  brocade — the  ball-dress  I  had  on  when  his  Royal. 
Highness  said,  '  Miss  CoUingwood,  you  are  not  in  your  usual  spirits 
to-night.  I  assure  you  there  has  been  no  execution  to-day,  but  what 
has  been  effected  by  your  beautiful  eyes.'  This  is  more  the  costume 
of  the  housekeeper." 

"It  shall  be  so,"  I  said.  "I  return  this  way,  and  will  execute 
it  for  you  in  a  way  that  I  hope  will  meet  your  approbation." 

Confound  that  box !  said  I  to  myself.  I  shall  never  enveigle  her 
out  of  it ;  and  yet  have  it  I  must  and  will,  for  I  have  a  work  of  that 
kind  all  outlined  in  my  head.     I  have  it,  Sam,  said  I ;  throw  all  thfi 


=■   -J..-  t.  ■'  '-i.'l.C't-jT  .  "ia.  ;: 


'ST.:- 


iPP 


>^V"  ' 


••"mmmm 


212 


AUNT    THANKFUL    AND    HER    ROOM. 


obligation  on  her ;  condescend  to  be  so  kind  as  to  take  the  Iflusty, 
fusty  old  box  on  her  account. 

"Madam,"  said  I,  "will  you  allow  mo  to  show  my  gratitude  in 
another  shape  ?  It's  a  pity  8«ch  a  distinguished  o|Bcer  as  your 
father  shouldn't  have  had  justice  done  to  him  or  the  Prince's  memory 
either.     You  know  I  write  books  ?  " 

"  I  do,  Sir ;  and  have  often  said  to  my  brother :  '  Frederick/  sais 
I,  '  where  in  the  world  did  Mr.  Slick  pick  up  so  many  curious  stories, 
and  so  many  odd  things  and  odd  subjects,  I  wonder  ? ' 
'   "  *  From  odd  people,'  said  he,  '  like  himself  " 

"Well,"  said  I,  "nothin'  would  give  me  greater  pleasure  than  to 
arrange  them  papers  for  publication  for  you,  and  to  have  them 
printed  free  of  expense,  for  I  know  all  the  publishers."       ■ 
"Why,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  she,  "would  you,  indeed?""".'  ' ■ 
"  Only  too  happy,"  s!-   I  I.  '    "" 

"  And  you  will  give  me  back  the  originals  afterwards  ?  " 
"  Certainly,  and  as  many  copies  of  the  book  as  you  desire." 
"  'Tis  yours.  Sir,  and  here  is  the  key;  and  I  am  greatly  indebted 
to  you.     But  Mr.  Slick,"  she  added,  "  if  there  be  anythin'  in  them 
that  his  Royal  Highness  the  Prince,  or  my  father  wouldn't  approve 
of,  if  livin',  or  that  don't  convene  to  me  —  you  understand." 

"Exactly,"  ;  us  I.  "Wide  awake  — up  to  snuff.  Talkin'  of 
snuff,  could  you  favor  me  with  a  pinch?  I  think  I  saw  aT)ox  on 
the  mantel-piece  ? " 

I  did  this  to  see  if  she  took  any  on  the  sly;  and  findin'  she  did, 
thought  of  a  present  to  send  to  her.  "Good-bye,  Madam,"  said  I. 
"  I  thank  you  kindly  for  all  your  polite  attentions,  and  must  now 
say  adieu ;  for,"  and  I  opened  the  curtain,  "  there  is  the  first  gray 
streak  of  dawn;"  and  takin'  her  hand  in  both  mine,  bent  down 
respectfully  over  it,  and  touched  it  with  my  lips.  Then  puttin'  the 
box  under  my  arm,  proceeded  to  the  door,  where  I  gave  it  to  Rose, 
^  takin'  the  gun  and  fishin'-rod  instead,  and  proceeded  to  the  beach. 
When  I  got  out  on  the  lawn,  I  could  not  help  thinkin'  how  many 
onexpected  events  had  taken  place  in  this  short  visit !  What  little 
accidental  circumstances  sometimes  change  the  whole  current  of  a 
man's  life  !  Was  it  an  ill  wind,  or  a  lucky  chance  that  took  me  to 
Jordan  lliver  ?  What  course  shall  I  take  ?  Adopt  dear  old  Minis- 
ter's rule  in  similar  cases,  "  Sam,  think  well  he/ore  you  decide  ;  act 
on  your  own  calm,  delihcrate  judgment,  and  not  your  impulses  ;  and 
leave  the  issue  with  Him  loho  can  alone  direct  it." 


.V.    ,t.-,^^^' 


■^^^^'i' 


^.:-*^0^:--, 


-?>.  ■,■■ 


■m 


^^, 


'M 


*^4|#. 


A    SINGLE    IDEA. 


21B 


tf^m 


CHAPTE'!t*KJiL 


A   SINGLE   IDEA. 

Poor  Aunt  Thankful  bad  lived  on  a  single  idea  for  nearly  half  a 
century.  Sixteen  thousand  five  hundred  successive  days  appeared 
to  her  but  as  one  day,  and  sixteen  thousand  five  hundred  successive 
nights  but  as  one  long  night.  It  was  but  yesterday  she  assisted  in 
preservin*  quinces  for  the  Prince,  and  only  last  evenin'  that  he 
promenaded  with  her  on  his  arm,  and  complimented  her  on  her 
beautiful  eyes. 

That  one  idea  was  ever  uppermost  in  her  mind,  that  charmin' 
scene  ever  before  her  eyes.  Often  as  she  sat  in  her  arm-chair,  alone 
by  the  fire  knittin',  would  she  wander  in  imagination  over  the  beau- 
tiful grounds  of  the  Lodge,  rest  in  one  of  the  pretty  little  Pagoda 
summer-houses,  listen  to  the  tinklin'  of  the  tiny  bells  as  they  waved 
in  the  wind,  or  look  out  on  the  wide-spread  basin,  dotted  here  and 
there  with  pleasure-boats,  from  which  rose  the  merry  peal  of  laughter, 
or  in  the  lone  hour  of  night  —  for  it  aint  every  one  that  makes  one 
solid  nap  of  it  as  I  do  —  wake  to  the  recollection  of  that  fine  manly 
figure,  and  hear  that  clear  commandin'  voice  say,  "  I  assure  you, 
Miss  Collingwood,  there  has  been  no  execution  to-day,  but  what  has 
been  effected  by  your  beautiful  eyes."  Sweeter  far  than  quince 
syrup  to  the  palate  was  that  flatterin'  unction  to  the  mind. 

If  you  could  but  see  her  face  then ;  but  you  aint  an  owl,  and 
can't  see  in  the  dark;  but  supposin'  you  could,  wouldn't  you  see  a 
dreamy  smile  come  over  it,  for  Aunty  feels  good  all  over.  One 
little  long-drawn  sigh,  not  much  louder  than  a  baby's,  and  bhe  is  off 
to  sleep  agin ;  and  then  comes  a  dream  of  speculation,  that  she  don't 
indulge  in  when  awake — she  has  too  much  sense  for  that.  "  Sposin'," 
sais  the  dreamer,  "  papa  had  left  me  a  little  longer  at  Government 
House,  and  his  lloyal  Highness  had  got  his  papa's  consent  for  the 
American  beauty,  as  they  called  me.  A  Duchess  is  such  a  pretty 
title — the  mother  of  a  queen,  perhaps  a  king — wouldn't  I  be  tliankfid 
then?  I  wonder  if  the  Duchess's  eyes  are  as  handsome  as  mine  are. 
I  don't  believe  it."  Nor  I  either.  Aunty,  or  any  Duchess  in  the 
queendom.  "  Oh  !  that  horrid  cock  !  I  wish  it  wouldn't  crow  so 
loud  under  my  window.  If  he  hasn't  waked  mo  up  I  declare,  aud 
now  it  is  time  to  get  up,  and  call  up  Sophy  and  Mary." 

If  that  aint  bein'  happy,  it's  plaguy  near  it.  But  it  aint  an 
overly  sage  thing  to  have  only  one  idea  in  life.  .  Folks  want  two 
ideas  in  a  general  way,  like  two  eyes,  «wo  hands,  and  two  feet,  so 


'M::: 


■.*iiU.iit'i*;i.v.:ie&i''.i'*^-:;';aiA£!t..'iV..^,. 


mmmmm 


,*i 


214  w.^*  ASINQLEIDEA.  1 

that  if  you  lose  one,  you  can  fall  back  on  tho  other.  Maii^H|iing 
lady  has  b;ut  one  idea — a  sort  of  trade  wind  oae,  that  alv/i^ljplowa 
one  way-ithat  a  n^  of  rank,^r-hcr  lookin'-gSws,  or  her  foolish  old 
mother^  or  her  owii  vanitVjjrilP' put  into  her  bfead  tl^at  she  is  aa 
Mnazin*  handsome  gall.  And  she  aint  a  bad-lookin'  heifer  neither, 
"fliat's  a  fact.  Well,  she  flirts  with  this  one  and  that  one,  plays  one 
oiF  agin  another,  keeps  'era  on  hand  like  till  a  better  one  comes,  and 
cracks Jjeli-ts  like  hickory  nuts. 

Well,  the  men  get  tired  of  flirtin',  drop  off  one  by  one,  and  get 
tnarried,  and  the  better  one  that  she  has  been  waitin'  for  so  long, 
don't  come;  and  she  opens  her  eyes  some  fine  day,  and  says: 
"  Hullo  !  what  in  natur  is  all  this  ?  As  I'm  a  livin'  sinner,  here 
are  grey  hairs  in  my  head  !  and  I  haven't  so  much  as  I  used  to  have; 
it's  actilly  gettin'  thin  !  See  how  the  comb  fetches  it  out  too !  I 
must  see  to  this.  I'll  use  neat's  foot  oil.  Phew !  the  very  idea 
makes  me  sick.  I  can't  bear  the  smell  of  it  even.  Well,  bear's 
grease.  Oh !  I  couldn't  stand  my  own  joke  about  that.  I  fairly 
plagued  old  Miss  Bantam  out  of  her  wits,  by  telling  her  it  would 
bring  out  fur  instead  of  hair,  and  she  would  have  a  bear-skin.  I 
wish  now  I  hadn't  made  that  foolish  speech,  for  bear's  grease  aint 
bad,  that's  a  fact.  Well,  there  is  tricopherus,  how  will  that  do? 
It's  a  very  hard  word  to  pronounce,  and  there  is  no  rememberin'  it; 
but  them  things  aint  to  be  talked  of.  But  oh  !  my  gracious !  I 
never  had  my  glass  arranged  this  way  before.  I  did  it  to  examia' 
my  hair.  But  what  on  airth  are  them  little  squares  on  the  fore- 
head ?  Wrinkles !  Nonsense,  they  can't  be.  You  are  only — let's 
see  how  old  you  are.  Take  twenty  from  fifty-two,  and  that  leaves 
thirty-two,  and  two  years  I  stood  still  at  twenty-five,  makes  thirty- 
four.  People  oughtn't  to  count  that  way  after  twenty-five,  for  the 
years  run  twice  as  quick  then  as  before.  I'll  try  to  cipher  it  that 
way.  Twenty-five  from  thirty-four,  leaves  nine  —  half  of  nine  is 
four  and  a  half — twenty-five  and  four  and  a  half  makes  twenty-nine 
and  a  half — that  is  my  age  exactly.  I  thought  there  must  be  some 
mistake. 

Now  let's  examine  them  little  squares  agin — wrinkles  sproutin' 
up  as  sure  as  dog  days.  How  strange,  and  me  only  twenty-nine  and 
a  half  years  old !  I  must  take  care  how  I  sit  in  the  light.  Self- 
examination  that  the  parsons  recommends  so  strongly  may  be  a  very 
good  thing,  but  it  aint  a  very  pleasant  one.  But  go  through  with  it 
BOW  you  are  at  it.  How  are  the  teeth  ?  Why  what  has  come  over 
me'f  I  never  noticed  them  little  specks  before !  Shockin'  bad 
Itiijrte ! — some  must  come  out  and  others  ^o  in.  I  declare  my  heart's 
broke  ! 

So  she  rings  the  bell,  orders  breakfast  in  bed,  and  don't  get  up 
again  that  day,  and  sends  word  to  her  mother  she  has  a  slight  head- 
ache, and  will  darken  her  room,  and  try  to  go  to  sleep.     All  that 


^ni:fi 


J  l/*^.i^^i^^x.li1^1^  J^iilbil^&^^A'ii  iMiiJ^ 


^^^.  A    SINGLE    tf^.  'IMH^       215 

comHp'ii&'^^'  only  one  idea,  and  wen^n^thatjijl't  begins  to  givo 
out  from'  long  use^_And  I  have  an  idea  that  ^pH  will  |klier  die  a 
sour  old  maid,  or^Bl  'to  take  <&  cr||kcd  stick  Jlf^a  husb^fl  ^ttf  lust, 
ril  bet  six  cendflKap  taU^he  >l||i;9,f  th^ino  she^ll  tAp'  to 
dritikin'.  'It  will  »e»Trymanncr  and  Sir«^j4rf|^ine.  Trymanncr^ 
so  awful  sour,  it  takes  three  people  to  get  ifiii^j(m.  One  is  lai^ 
on  the  table,  a  second  holds  the  hands  down,  and "tW  tjprfl  boai^'  ft 
into  the  mouth.  Strumph  is  stockin'  wine,  for  it  is  so 
if  you  pour  it  into  a  stockin'  that  has  a  hole  in  it,  it  will  pucker  up 
30,  it  w(»n't  require  no  darnin'  or  raendin'.  Yes,  that  will  be  her 
fate.  Now  there  was  a  great  difference  between  her  and  Aunt 
Tbriiiicful.  Aunty  had  but  one  idea,  but  she  knew  the  consequence, 
and  wouldn't  give  it  up  but  with  her  life.  The  other  critter  had  but 
one  also,  and  didn't  know  the  consequence  of  havin'  such  an  artful 
domestic  about  her  toilet-table  as  vanity,  till  she  missed  the  roses  on 
her  cheek. 

Well,  that  one  idea  aint  confined  to  women.  Many  a  man  has  it, 
and  fancies  he  is  a  very  killin'  feller,  and  never  doubts  it  in  the 
least,  tho'  he  gets  pretty  broad  hints,  now  and  then,  to  get  another 
idea  into  his  head.  The  galls  are  absent  when  he  talks  to  them 
(that  he  puts  down  to  bad  manners,  and  he  don't  think  they  are  as 
well  bred  as  they  used  to  be),  and  the  old  ladies  take  to  patronizia* 
him  strangely,  but  they  are  of  the  old  school,  and  always  was 
perlite. 

Well,  one  night  at  a  ball,  a  stoutish  woman,  remarkably  good- 
lookin'  for  her  age,  and  with  a  face  beamin'  with  delight  and  eyes 
sparklin'  with  joy,  leauin'  on  the  arm  of  an  active,  athletic  young 
■a  leftenaut  in  the  navy — who,  in  spite  of  the  ugly  navy  uni 


man- 


form,  looks  better  than  any  one  else  there,  slowly  promenades  up  the 
room  as  if  proud  of  her  escort,  and  looks  up  into  his  face  as  if  she 
bad  no  cy.  for  any  one  but  him.  Says  single-idead  bachelor:  "I 
don't  like  such  a  public  exhibition  of  flirtin'.  Such  admiration  in 
public  aint  hardly  decent."  The  sooner  you  leave  this  station,  young 
man,  the  better  for  that  silly  woman,  and  you  too.  Perhaps  you 
don't  know  her  husband  is  livin',  and  a  dead  shot,  too — snuff  |  can- 
dle at  twenty  paces  with  a  ball  without  so  much  as  flickerim  the 
light. 

Well,  it  will  make  promotion,  at  any  rate.    When  the  lady  stops, 
and  calls  the  one-idead,  but  many-wrinkled  bachelor  to  her,  who 
bows  like  an  old  monkey,  his  chin  stickin'  out  in  front,  and  his  Cj 
tails  behind. 

"  Mr.  Bachelor,  allow  me  to  introduce  my  son  to  you — Liei 
Tiller,  of  the  navy.     He  has  just  returned  from  Rangoon,  wh^f^I 
am  happy  to  say,  he  distinguished  himself,  and  has  been  appointed 
flag-lieutenant  to  Admiral  Sir  John  Growler,  on  board  the  *  3\MM. 
Doff.' ''  .  '*' 


ilSi«ii-'';-;.  ,■..;' 


JittiiFi.  ■iy.Si^..ii .•ii::.L>;* 


*r 


IDEA. 


Bach^OTDfute;  makcs%v41  speeches  to  both,  hopes  ho  fih^  Bog  a 
good  (Iculjjf  hi^P»Ti(l  returns  to  a.oorDor  aud  reflects.  ' 

'<  i.j^  Jrsoort  t^^ll^c  devil  asthaf  ^uu  sarpeD^^hc  eais  to  himself. 

iB|-lictileimnt  ^9v 
fro  life  of  a  dofl.  ^tj^u 


admiral  !     I  am 
oy  shouldn't  have 


'' He^niakcs  me^W^old.  .  JB|-licti>cimnt  t 

J  [lad  of  it;  you  wilWead'tTO  life  of  a  dog. 
iffc  you  to  sea.  Yatt^ave  outgrown  your  strongth,  and  are  too  tall 
fof  betwecu-dctJw.  ^s  it  possible,  this  memento-mori  is  .  he  son  of 
JittJ^illlllPr Dawson,  or  that  little  Ma^  DawBon,  that  was  more  like 
a  gazelle  than  anythin'  else,  is  fat  Mrs.  Tiller.  She  don't  take  earo 
of  herself.  They  married  her  too  early,  and  that  plays  the  devil 
with  women  j  and  she  looks  as  if  she  drank  brown  stout  at  lunch. 
She  can't  be  so  old  either.  It  is  only  the  other  day  I  was  called  to 
the  bur,  and  I  recollect  that  year  I  lifted  her  into  a  cherry-tree  to 
gather  fruit,  when  she  show'd  such  a  foot  and  ankle,  and  perhaps  a 
few  inches  more,  as  never  mortal  man  beheld.  Poor  thing  !  she  has 
fed  coarsely  since  then,  and  vealed  her  calf,  I  suppose !  What  a 
pity  it  is  women  don't  take  care  of  themselves,  for  they  don't  wear 
as  well  as  wo  men  do  in  a  general  way.  Still,  confound  it !  it  does 
make  me  feel  old,  too  !" 

Well,  bo  you  are  old  I  The  crows'  feet  at  the  corners  of  your 
eyes  are  as  large  as  the  prints  they  leave  in  the  sand,  when,  like  you, 
they  are  a  fecdin'  on  what  the  tide  has  left  of  the  wracks  of  the  dead. 
You  are  too  old  to  marry  now.  Adopt  that  handsome  leftenant,  and 
leave  him  your  money.  ,  i 

;,,^."  What!  me?" 

"Yes,  you."  j*  •  '       ■  ^  "  .    . 

"What!  him?"  .    .         ' 

"Yes,  him."      *      v.  A  '^  '' 

•  ^y  He  springs  right  up  on  eend,  and  says :  ^,     '  ■ 

,, ;  "  ril  see  him  d— d  first  ?" 

And  cuts  out  of  the  room,  and  makes  tracks  for  home. 

Oh !  my  one-idead  lawyer,  that  blow  over  the  pate  of  your  vanity 
has  let  a  new  light  into  it,  I  guess,  and  made  a  crack  big  enough  for 
a  new  idea  to  enter  it.  Put  that  doion  on  your  hrief,  that  life  itself 
is  too  hrief  hy  half  to  he  fooled  away  on  one  idea  only. 

One  idea  aint  confined  to  looks  neither.     Mr.  and  Mrs.  and  the 

Misses  aud  the  young  gentlemen  Nobodies  are  very  apt,  especially  in 

a  country  like  this,  where  it  is  all  small  beer,  to  have  one  grand  idea 

that  haunts  them  day  and  night,  starches  their  cravats  or  muslins, 

.,  stiffens  the  upper  lip,  and  keeps  their  chins  up — and  that  is  that 

*  t^'lj^re  somebodies.     There  is  some  excuse  for  the  idea  about  looks 

"hiAk^  a  nateral  one,  and  only  hurts  oneself;  but  the  other,  the 

gflraa  idea,  makes  folks  a  nuisance,  itnd  causes  other  people  to  have 

an  idea  that  they  hate  them. 

To  claim  superiority  is  to  attempt  to  pass  another  on  the  road^ 
nd  compel  Jiim  to  take  tJie  dust.    In  a  giueral  way  that  aint  genteel, 


•"•mm 


A    SINQLE    IDISA. 


iop  a 


to  bimself. 
al !     I  am 
ilda't  have 
aro  too  tall 
.he  son  of 
2  more  like 
't  take  caro 
8  the  devil 
t  at  lunch, 
as  called  to 
erry-treo  to 
d  perhaps  a 
[ig !  she  has 
I !     What  a 
^  don't  wear 
I  it !  it  does 

lers  of  your 
;en,  like  you, 
I  of  the  dead, 
cftcnant,  and 


your  vanity 

y  enough  for 

Vat  life  itself 

Mrs.  and  the 

lespecially  in 

|e  grand  idea 

or  muslins, 

Ithat  is  that 

about  looks 

other,  the 

Lie  to  have 

m  the  road, 
laint  genteel, 


21T 


onlcss  there  is  a  lady  in  the  case.  iVtcZe  ieind  up^tartism  aon' t  coti' 
vciir.  Who'  the  oil  jloals,  the  tumhler  in  nearlj/  full  of  water,  and 
the  (jlnsa  shown  it-^ic  oil  vi  wasted,  and  the  water  spofU,  There 
aint  enough  of  thSk»i(.  for  a  lamp^hut  there  it  enough  of  the  other 
to  make  the  light  sp'^^kMtj^d  jynt  it  ottt. 
*'  Grandpapa  w^^^Kuodoro  in  the  British  navy/'  says  Miss 

Nohody.  '^KM' 

"  The  devil  ho  wll^^A.nd  what  was  ho  before  ho  was  «  commo- 
dore?" 

"  Why  an  officer,  to  bo  sure."  • 

"  And  who  was  his  father  ?" 

"A  tinman." 

"  Well,  that  will  do  to  tinker  up  a  pedigree.  Died  poor,  didn't 
he  ?" 

"  Well,  he  didn't  lay  up  anythin'.  Exactly,  ho  begun  life  and 
ended  it  without  money."  * 

"  It  is  a  pity  he  didn't  stick  to  his  trade,  if  ho  had,  his  tin  would 
have  stuck  to  him." 

"  Well,  grandma  was  a  great  beauty." 

"Yes,  and  her  face  now  looks  as  wrinkled  as  a  cabbage-leaf.  I 
recollect  her  well,  when  the  music-master  gave  up  her  daughter,  your 
mother,  because  she  had  no  capacity.  She  said  she  would  send  to 
London  and  buy  her  one." 

"Well,  grandpa  on  the  other  side — " 

"  Do  you  mean  the  other  side  of  the  water  ?"  - 

^'  How  provokin'  you  are  !  no,  on  the  maternal  side." 

"  Oh !  now  I  understand,  the  matronly  side.  Yes,  yes,  now  I 
have  it !  matron  of  a  hospital,  and  married  the  doctor,  who  became  a 
P.M.O.,  and  used  to  call  her  his  diacolon-plaster,  she  used  to  stick 
so  close  to  him.  Poor  thing !  she  thought  him  very  killin',  and  she 
wasn't  far  out  of  the  way.  Doctors  excel  in  killin'.  But  don't  cry, 
dear,  you  brought  it  on  yourself  by  a  bit  of  brag.  I  should  have 
forgot  it  all  if  you  hadn't  called  my  attention  to  it.  That  comes  of 
the  grand  idea  of  being  somebody.  Let  the  dead  he  ,  wo  don't  of^m 
inherit  their  talents  or  their  moneys  and  if  we  did,  why  should  we 
he  answcrahle  for  their  follies  P"  •    , '  ^  '  ■ 

If  you  boast  your  claim  to  be  a  bigger  bug  than  others,-  if  your 
claim  is  disputed  and  you  get  wounded  iu  the  conflict,  it's  your  own 
fault.  Modesty  is  hrought  forward  and  made  way  for, ,  A^m/tpp- 
tion  has  the  door  shut  in  its  face.  If  you  really  have'-  an  old  i^aime, 
and  belong  to  an  old  family,  do  somethia'  to  show  tj^e  value  ofjiit. 
Brag  is  a  dog  that  everybody  hates,  hut  nohody  fears,  for  he  Ofjf^-^ 
low-iooios ;  hut  he  loakes  up  detraction,  and  he  is  a  dangerous 
critter,  for  he  hites  without  bar  kin*. 

In  society  one-idead  men  are  awful  bores.     London  is  chock  full 
of  them,  as  my  fruit-trees  to  Slickvillc  used  to  be  of  an  insect  of 
19 


mi 

i 

ra||^HH|  1 

■1 

m 

^mm 


218 


A    SINGLE    IDEA. 


that  name,  till  I  lamed  how  to  get  rid  of  them.  You  will  get  near 
a  ninni/  at  table  who  can't  talk  about  anythin'  but  iVmcvah,  till  you 
think  he  must  have  been  dug  up  there. 

Another  fellow  is  mad  after  mummies;  if  heVas  only  dummy  or 
mummy  himself,  it  wouldn't  be  so  bad,y||^ii3  tongue  runs  like  a 
mill  race,  his  hair  smells  of  tho  horrid  ^RHk[^4'  stuff  which  he 
has  been  analyzing  and  at  first  you  think  q^palM^us  combustion 
has  commenced.  The  only  way  is  to  make  fan  oKj^im,  and  shut 
him  up. 

"  (keat  prize  to-day,  Mr.  Slick ;  I  got  one  of  Pharer%  darters." 
"  What's  the  colour !"     :.,..«.  j.-,}    v  >:?■.;'''/::  .  f^*  m~^f:'^'' 
"Deep  claret."  '       ■  .,. 

"She  wasn't  a  Fair-er's  darter  then,  but  a  darfcie's  gall?" 
He  don't  take  at  first,  for  the  pun  aint  so  plain  as  a  hyrogrip^ic, 

so  on  he  goes.    ■^,,^\,,,^ , .-•       _         ^:':i>',i^:^^^4f^^<^'  ^:,-J.'r:' 
"  A  beautiful  specimen.  Sir."    . .-   .  ^   .     <.  -  ^    '■:>■->■'  ' 

■  "Thin?"    ,^ .  .,,,../:.-;:;;5ii,^ii:\::vl.-..; 

;    "Katherso."  '       '*\:iv:.    V:^"v;,V 

"Then  she  was  one  of  Pharaoh's  lean  kine?"    •'  -,    ' 

He  stares  at  that. 

"  Aint  you  afraid  of  infection,"  sais  I,  "  a  handlin'  the  gall  that 
way?" 

"No,  not  at  all."     ■  "  v:,:.  ■     ■  '   '.•: 

"I  wouldn't  touch  her  on  no  account,"  sais  I;  "for  she  must 
have  been  one  of  the  plagiLes  of  Egypt.  I  guess  she  must  be  wuss 
than  the  canister  meat  government  sent  to  the  North  Pole,  and  that 
was  so  bad  it  poisoned  the  foxes.  I  have  an  idea  the  Egyptians  were 
cannibals,  and  these  bodies  were  those  of  their  captives,  who  were 
killed,  spiced,  baked,  and  put  away  for  feasts. ,  Did  you  ever  taste 
one  to  see  if  it  had  been  cooked  ?"  i 

That  shuts  him  up.  He  turns  to  his  next  neighbour,  and  earwigs 
him  by  tho  hour.  Another  critter  is  mad  on  ehurch  architecture, 
I  had  no  idea  of  being  crammed  myself,  so  I  tui^  to  and  crams  him. 
Ho  squares  round  to  you,  his  eye  lights  up,  and  he  is  all  animation. 

"  Are  you  fond  of  church  architecter,  Mr.  Slick  ?  It  is  a  beau- 
tiful study." 

I  look  all  aghast.  -.        '  -r  .'":.'     '^  '  . 

.y-*^Cant't  bear  to  think  of  it,"  sais  I,  "much  less  to  speak  of  it, 
since  a  dreadful  accident  happened  to  a  friend  of  mine  to  Michigan. 
He  thought  of  nothin'  else  but  buildin'  a  new  church,  mornin',  noon, 
and  night;  and  after  years  of  study  and  savin',  and  beggin',  he 
finished  a' most  a  beautiful  one.  Well,  he  no  sooner  got  it  out  of  his 
head  than  he  got  it  into  his  stomach.  He  fancied  he  had  swallered 
it;  all  the  doctors  told  him  he  was  a  fool,  and  left  him,  and  he  re- 
turned the  compliment  and  called  them  fools.  My  brother,  the 
doctor  and  I  was  travel lin'  there  at  the  time,  and  when  he  heard  it, 


A     SINGLE    IDEA. 


21^ 


■will  get  near 
evah,  till  you 

\\y  dummy  or 
10  runs  like  a 
buff  -which  he 
13  combustion 
ijm,  and  shut 


darters. 


7f 


'■t> 


galir 
,  a  hyrogripliic, 


in'  the  gall  that 


■-tj^v 


"for  she  must 

ae  must  be  vfna 

h  Pole,  and  that 

Egyptians  were 

itives,  who  were 

you  ever  taste 

.our,  and  earwigs 
[rch  architecture, 

and  crams  him. 

is  all  animation. 

?    It  is  a  beau- 

I  to  Speak  of  it, 
line  to  Michigan. 
|h,  mornin',  noon, 
land  beggin',be 
'•  got  it  out  of  W8 
le  had  swallered 
I  him,  and  he  re- 
tily  brother,  the 
■vhen  he  heard  it, 


'  Sam,'  said  he, '  everybody  a'most  is  mad  in  some  respect  or  another, 
as  you  are  on  human  natur^  and  soft  sawder' 

"  *■  I'll  cure  him,  but  I  must  humour  him.  Mr.  Sternhold,'  sais 
ho,  'this  is  a  curious  complaint,  but  I  knew  a  case  just  like  it. 
Fulton  once  swallowed  a  steamboat,  and  I  knew  several  who  swal- 
lowed a  sea-serpent.  I  can  cure  you.  Fortunately  the  church  is  of 
wood.  I'll  knock  the  pins  out  of  the  frame,  take  it  to  pieces,  and 
have  it  put  up  again ;  but  the  tenants  fit  into  the  mortises  so  tight, 
I  must  use  plenty  of  ile  to  make  them  separate  easy.*  And  he  dark- 
ened the  room,  and  gave  him  awful  doses  of  castor  ile. 

"  Next  we6k,  sais  he,  *  I  have  got  the  doors  and  windows  off  safe 
and  sound,  and  lowered  the  steeple  to  the  floor.' 

"  Next  week  one  side  and  one  end  were  off,  and  the  next  it  was 
all  took  to  pieces  safe  and  put  up  again. 

*  Sa  s  he,  '  Sternhold,  some  wicked  profane  person  has  wished  that 
church  in  your  stomach,  and  the  devil,  who  is  full  of  tricks,  helped 
him  to  his  wish  out  of  mischief.  Now  you  must  pray  that  it  may 
remain  where  it  is,  but  take  more  ile,  for  that  church  has  tore  you  a 
considerable  sura.  When  you  are  better,  come  and  see  me  to  Charles- 
town.' 

"  It  cured  him,  but  it  nearly  killed  me  to  see  him  in  that  state. 
I  can't  bear  to  hear  of  church  architecture  since  then." 
It  choked  him  off.  ,   ,.        ,  ,v,    ; 

''What  a  strange  story  I"  said  he.  '    ■        ■■■       ♦^  •    -' 

Thinks  I  to  myself^  "  It's  quite  as  strange  you  too  should  swaller 
that  identical  church  yourself."    .  ;•'     ;-..'•  ^'w0'*^;i->v 

It's  different  now  in  business  —  one  grand  idea  of  makin'  money 
—  and  when  you  have  made  it,  savin'  it  commonly  succeeds  in  the 
long  run.  If  a  rich  man,  that  ha^  got  his  fortin  all  himself,  was  to 
divide  his  money  into  two  heaps  before  he  died,  and  put  into  one 
what  he  had  made,  and  into  the  other  what  he  had  saved,  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten  the  saved  heap  would  be  the  biggest.  It  is  easier 
to  make  money  than  to  save  it ;  one  is  exert  ion,  the  other  self-denial. 
It  is  harder  to  refuse  others  than  yourself,  for  the  skin  is  nearer  than 
the  shirt.  A  critter  that  saves,  therefor',  as  well  as  makes  money, 
must  in  the  natur'  of  things  eend  by  bein'  as  rich  as  a  Jew.  The 
one  idea  takes  in  -everythin'  needful  for  riches.  Money  is  a  thing 
people  L:">  '  ^j  ^if'^'t;  but  there  aint  any  bodt  but  your  single-idea 
moa  that  kuow  its  nater;  and  it  is  lucky  theynPon't,  for  there  would 
be  nofortins  to  he  made  if  there  ioeren' t  fools  to  spend* em.  I  knew 
an  awful  rich  man  to  London  of  the  name  of  Zimenes,  the  richest 
man  there,  or  any  where  I  suppose  a'most :  well  he  made  it  all  him- 
self. He  wanted  some  information  from  me  about  the  States,  and 
he  asked  mo  to  dine  with  him.  ^^^     ■'>'     .*--'■''/ 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  sais  he,  "  could  you  dine  as  early  as  two  ?  that  is 
my  hour,  when  I  dine  alone  in  the  city." 


v.>S^.l  V-V. 


220 


A    SINGLE    IDEA. 


-,'i. 


*■• 


"Dine  at  any  time/'  sais  I.  "I  am  nscd  to  travellm\  Hours 
was  made  for  man,  and  not  man  for  hours.  A  critter  who  is  a 
slave  to  his  own  rides  is  his  own  niggei^..  I  am  a  free  citizen ;  I 
don't  calculate  to  let  other  folks  fetter  me,  and  I  aint  such  a  fool  as 
to  fetter  myself.  When  fools  malce  society,  its  rules  cccnH  ahoc(i/s  he 
wise.  When  a  custom  can  and  ought  to  he  followed,  foller  it. 
When  it  can't,  set  your  own  compass,  and  steer  your  own  course. 
That's  my  way  of  tlunkin' ;  but  still  in  a  general  way,  if  you  want 
the  world  to  be  with  you,  you  must  be  with  the  world.  Yes,  I'll 
dine  with  you  with  pleasure." 

He  eyed  mc  all  over,  as  a  man  does  a  highly -priced  ring,  to  see 
whether  it's  paste  or  a  diamond.  I  knew  what  was  passin'  in  his 
mind.  It  was  this :  by  the  beard  of  Moses !  but  that  is  pretty  well 
for  a  Oockmaker.  I  wonder  if  there  is  one  of  the  craft  in  London 
could  talk  in  that  way.  But  he  said  nothing. 
.Well  at  five  minutes  to  two  I  rings,  for  it  takes  five  minutes  to 
get  into  a  house,  uncase,  and  slick  the  hair  up ;  and  a  servant  showed 
me  through  a  narrowish  entry  into  a  small  sittin'-room.  As  I 
entered  one  door,  he  came  through  another ;  for  a  one-idead  man 
knows  time  is  money,  and  you  have  no  more  right  to  rob  him  of  one 
than  of  the  other.  If  you  take  a  shillin'  from  a  feller,  you  are  had 
up  for  it  and  punished.  If  you  take  half  an  hour  of  his  time,  which 
p'raps  is  worth  more  pounds  than  minutes,  you  aint  even  repri- 
manded. It  is  a  pity  kickin'  is  gone  out  of  fashion,  for  a  feller  that 
keeps  you  waitin'  richly  desarves  one. 

"  You're  punctuality  itself,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  smilin',  for  it 
pleased  him. 

"The  same  time,"  sais  I,  "is  given  to  all  men  —  twenty-four 
hours  a-day.  It  was  ordained  so  on  purpose  for  appointments,  that 
all  might  know  and  govern  themselves  accordingly,  as  proclamations 
say." 

When  I  looked  round  t'  )  room,  I  saw  it  was  plain  furnished, 
nothiu'  to  be  remarked  but  two  or  three  old  paintins.  Thinks  I, 
when  I  am  showed  into  dinner,  he  is  agoin'  to  astonish  my  weak 
narves  with  his  splendour ;  but  I  am  not  easily  scared,  even  if  I  do 
see  my  own  mug  in  a  silver-plate ;  but  he  is  rich  enough,  I  do  sup- 
pose, to  have  fairies  wait  upon  him.  Just  then  the  servant  announced 
dinner ;  and  touchki*j|ji  secret  spring  on  the  oak  wall,  a  door  opened, 
and  we  entered  anoiajbr  room  of  the  same  size,  furnished  much  in 
the  same  way,  only  tttere  was  a  small  sideboard,  a  celcrct  under  it, 
and  some  dinner  fixins  on  it.  It  was  a  plain  dinner  for  two,  sup- 
posin'  one  of  them  to .  have  no  great .  appetite ;  the  desert  and  the 
wine  was  the  only  costly  things  about  it. 

He  only  played  with  his  dinner,  but  he  was  death  on  fruit,  and 
the  way  he  pitched  into  that  was  a  caution  to  schoolboys.  In 
fact  ho  dined  oif  of  it.  After  takin'  a  glass  or  two  of  wine,  I  cried 
quits. 


\<'^^ 


rjE7 


A    SINGLE    IDEA. 


isH 


"  You  have  drank  nothin'/'  he  said. 

"That's  the  advantage  of  early  dinin',"  I  replied.  You  must 
mule." 

"  Mule  !"  said  he,  "  what's  that  ?  " 

"  Stick  out  your  fore  feet,"  sais  *I,  "  lay  back  in  the  britchen,  and 
look  as  if  all  the  eoaxin'  and  beatin'  in  the  world  wouldn't  make 
you  alter  your  mind." 

He  smiled.  I  don't  think  that  man  ever  laughed,  unless  when 
he  was  bit,  and  then  it  must  be  like  a  hyena,  one  wouldn't  want  to 
see  it  again. 

"  You  must  be  temperate  if  you  dine  early ;  there  is  too  much  to 
do  arterwards,  to  sit  drinkin',  and  you  oughtn't,  and  can't  do  it. 
You  can  ♦  drinky  for  dry,'  as  the  niggers  say,  but  you  can't  Mrinky 
for  drink.'"  ;:■••;;      -  -  • 

He  sat  back  in  his  chair  and  mused,  and  said  half  aloud,  "  So 
-  saith  the  Prophet,  '  woe  unto  them  that  rise  up  early,  that  they 
may  follow  strong  drink,  and  continue  until  night  till  wine  inflames 
them.'"  -  ;,   ^   .  r-'i. 

"  I  hate  extremes,"  sais  T,  "  good  liquor  is  like  good  singin',  few 
have  the  right  taste,  sopie  you  can't  get  a-goin',  and  some  you  can't 
stop.  Use  but  not  abuse,  that's  my  rule.  Now,  Sir,  your  time  is 
precious,  don't  stand  on  ceremony  with  me."j 

Well,  he  put  a  number  of  questions  to  me  about  the  rael  value, 
and  the  bottom  and  good  faith  of  most  of  the  American  stock. 

"  I  don't  want  to  know  what  their  prices  are,"  said  he,  "  that  I 
have  got ;  I  want  to  J^now  where  dishonesty  lies  hid,  and  repudiation 
is  in  ambush,  where  speculation  has  been  reckless,  and  where  it  is 
based  on  solid  data." 

He  warmed,  and  as  he  warmed  he  showed  to  advantage  I  tell  you. 
I  answered  him  short  up  to  fhe  pint,  gave  him  all  he  wanted  on 
each,  and  no  more  nor  no  loss.  When  he  had  done,  he  thanked  me, 
and  said  he  had  got  more  information  in  five  minutes  from  me,  than 
he  could  in  a  general  way  get  in  a  whole  day  out  of  any  of  my 
countrymen,  who,  he  said,  never  answered  direct,  and  so  on. 

"  Is  there  anythin'  I  can  do  for  you,  Mr.  Slick  ?  y^u  ought  to  be 
a  rich  man,  for  you  have  a  business  head  and  business  habits."       '^ 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "I  won't  say  I  aint  well  off  for  the  likes  of  me, 
but  I  made  my  money  in  a  small  way,  and  I  haven't  the  knowledge 
or  the  courage  to  risk  it.  If  I  might  be  so  bold,  if  it  aint  an  impe- 
dent  question,  what  is  the  secret  of  your  great  success  in  the  world  ?" 

"  Certainljjr,"  said  he,  "  I'll  answer  it  with  pleasure.  It's  a  tho- 
rough knowledge  of  the  natur',  uses,  and  properties  of  money.  It 
is  the  most  prolific  thing  in  the  world.  I  deal  in  money,  and  not 
in  merchandize,  and  its  growth  almost  defies  figures." 

Ho  then  touched  a  bell,  and  a  tall,  thin,  thoughtful-lookin'  clerk 
came  in,  when  Zimenes,  takin'  out  his  pencil,  wrote  down  soraothin', 
19* 


KOI 


222 


A     SINGLE    IDEA. 


and  said  :  "  Copy  that  from  Gregory's  Dictionary,  and  bring  it  here 
with  an  envelope  and  a  pen  and  ink."  In  a  moment  almost  he 
returned,  handed  him  a  slip  of  paper  and  the  other  things,  and 
vanished. 

"  Perhaps  you  have  never,"  said  he,  "  fully  considfered  the  enor- 
mous increase  of  money.  Here  is  a  short  calcuLLion  which  will 
surprise  you,  I  think.  A  penny  at  five  per  cent  simple  interest,  for 
eighteen  hundred  years,  amounts  to  seven  shillings  and  sevenpenco 
halfpenny ;  but  at  compound  interest,  it  would  be  a  larger  sura  than 
could  be  contained  in  six  hundred  millions  of  globes,  each  equal  to 
the  earth  in  magnitude,  and  all  of  solid  gold."      ''':''^:'^"i'^'i''^',!'' 

We  was  standin'  then,  and  it  made  me  feel  as  if  I  must  let  off 
steam  or  bust  with  astonishment.  ..  .       r 

"Heavens  and  airth,"  sais  I.  '    ■  -'      ^'  •  '  ^ 

"No,  no,  my  friend,"  said  he,  "it  is  written  'Not  by  Heaven,  for 
it  is  Sis  throne,  nor  the  Earth,  for  it  is  Ilis  footstool.' " 

It  almost  took  away  my  breath  that  remark,  for  it  astonished  me 
more  than  the  other. 

"  Wh^t  a  pity  it  is,"  said  I,  "  you  were  not — "  but  I  stopped. 

"  A  Christian,"  said  he.  "  Finish  the  sentence,  and  we  will  let 
it  rest  there,  if  you  please.*' 

Foldin'  the  calculation  up,  he  put  it  into  the  envelope,  and  ad- 
dressed it  with  his  own  hands :  "  For  the  Hon.  Sam  Slick,  with  Mr. 
Zimenes'  compliments,"  and  handed  it  to  me. 

"  Mr.  Zimenes,,'  said  I,  "  if  there  are  any  of  my  answers  unsatis- 
factory, I  have  means  of  the  most  accurate  information  here  which 
none  but  an  American  can  get.  Send  for  me,  and  I  am  at  your 
sarvice." 
;i  "Thank  you,  thank  you,"  said  he;  and  we  shook  hands.  "I 
shall  not  fail  to  do  so  if  I  require  iC ;  and  you  on  your  part,  if  you 
want  capital,  let  me  know  the  object  and  the  amount." 
'  Creation,  said  I,  as  I  got  into  the  street,  if  Solomon  knew  onlj 
half  as  much  as  that  man  does  about  money,  he'd  a  built  his  temple 
all  of  solid  gold.  There  is  one  idea  fully  carried  out  at  any  rate.  A 
man  that  has  many  ideas  may  be  a  clever  man,  but  a  clever  man 
never  makes  money  —  he  has  too  much  genius.  Well  how  many 
ideas  ought  a  man  to  have  then  ?  Why  a  man  ought  to  have  one 
great  idea,  and  some  small  ones  to  rub  against  it,  so  that  they  may 
all  be  kept  bright.  The  grand  one  is  to  be  taken  care  of  and  never 
lost  sight  of,  the  little  ones  will  do  for  daily  use,  and  serve  as  small 
change.  The  more  ideas  you  have  beyond  them,  like  the  more  wild 
land  or  self-righteousness  you  possess,  the  poorer  you  be, 

■  <  ■*  .» 

AT  LEAST  that's  MY  IDEA. 


ir^^l 


AN    EXTENSIVE    PLAN    OP    REFORM. 


'•^:    r.  CHAPTERXXII. 

'•^t   AN  EXTENSIVE  PLAN  OP  EBPORM. 

From  Jordan  we  proceeded  to  Sable  River,  but  nearly  all  the  in- 
habitants were  absent  at  Port  Jolly,  where  a  great  political  meetin' 
was  to  he  held,  and  thither  we  directed  our  course  immediately. 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  said  Eldad,  "did  you  ever  see  such  a  beautiful  schoal 
of  mackerel  in  your  life,  as  we  are  now  passin'  through  ?  the  water 
13  actually  alive  with  them.  Instead  of  reformin'  the  provincial 
government,  what  a  pity  it  is  these  folks  wouldn't  reform  their 
habits;  and,  instead  of  makin'  speeches,  and  wastin'  their  time, 
turn  to  and  make  seins,  and  catch  the  fish  that  Providence  has  sent 
in  such  immense  numbers  up  to  their  very  doors,  leapin'  out  of  the 
water  to  show  themselves,  as  much  as  to  say,  come  and  catch  us  be- 
fore the  Yankees  do,  for  you  have  the  best  right  to  us,  seein'  the  coast 
is  yours.  Were  you  ever  up  to  Labrador,  Mr.  Slick?" 
"No,"  saisi,  "never." 

"  Oh !  well,  you  can't  form  no  notion  of  the  fisheries,  all  the  way 
up  along  that  shore.  Nothin'  but  seein'  could  give  you  any  idea  of 
the  salmon,  the  cod,  the  mackerel,  and  the  herrin'.  My  eyes !  what 
millions  upon  millions  of  herrin's  there  are  there,  when  the  spring 
opens." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Captin,  "  it  defies  the  power  of  language  almost 
to  convey  an  idea  of  them.  They  remain  durin'  the  winter  up  in 
those  icy  regions,  and  when  the  weather  moderates  they  take  a  tour 
south,  as  far  as  Ciarolina.  The  drove  or  herd  gives  them  their  name, 
for  Heer  signifies  an  army.  As  soon  as  they  start,  you  can  trace 
them  by  the  grampus,  the  whale,  the  shark,  black  backs,  dog-fish, 
and  porpoises,  that  follow  in  hot  pursuit,  while  sea-fowl  of  all  kinds 
hover  over  them,  and  charge  on  them  continually.  This  keeps  them 
in  a  compact  body  for  safety  j  for  how  it  is  I  can't  say,  but  a  whale 
never  was  known  to  ventur'  into  the  main  army,  though  he  will  cut 
off  detachments,  and  takes  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  them  down  at 
a  gulp.  Their  numbers  positively  alter  the  appearance  of  the  water 
sometimes,  which  actilly  sparkles  with  different  colours,  as  the  rays 
of  the  sun  are  reflected  by  their  scales  and  fins.  If  I  was  to  tell 
you  in  miles  how  long  and  broad  this  host  is,  you  could  scarcely 
credit  it.  After  a  while  they  divide  into  smaller  armies,  and  seek 
their  own  haunts,  and  the  quality  varies  accordin'  to  the  food.  Tho 
Bay  of  Fundy  detachment  is  of  splendid  quality.  They  are  smoked, 
as  you  know,  and  sold  in  small  boxes." 


'^ 


;.ufc'. 


d..0': 


224 


AN    EXTENSIVE    PLAN    OF    REFORM. 


"  Know/'  sais  I,  "to  bo  sure  I  do.  Why  there  aint  nothin'  like 
a  '  Digby  chicken/  hardly  anywhere.  Further  up  the  bay  they  are 
still  fatter,  but  they  don't  know  how  to  cure  them  as  the  Digby  boys 
do.'' 

"  Wtat  they  feed  on,"  said  Cutler,  "  I  never  could  discover,  for  I 
have  opened  them  again  and  again,  and  never  could  perceive  either 
animal  or  vegetable  matter  in  them.  And  vet  I  know,  for  I  have 
tried  them,  they  will  actually  rise  sometimes  to  a  fly.  Blowhard 
says  it's  a  sea-flea,  and  spawn-like  substance,  that  the  eye  can't  dis- 
cover in  water  without  a  magnifier,  that  they  subsist  on.  But  oh ! 
Mr.  Slick,  the  Bay  of  Fundy  shad,  aint  they  a  glorious  fish  !  They 
are  superior  to  what  they  have  on  the  Atlantic  shore,  either  here  or 
in  the  States." 

"I  guess  they  be,"  said  I,  "and  far  before  those  of  the  Severn  to 
England,  they  brag  so  much  of.  To  my  mind,  they  are  preferable 
to  salmon,  only  the  everlastin'  little  bones  are  so  tormentin',  aint 
they  ?  Lord,  I  never  shall  forgot  a  grand  party  I  was  at  to  Canada 
once,  in  the  shad  season.  The  ball-room  was  got  up  in  a  hurry,  and 
the  plaister  warn't  quite  dry ;  the  eveniu'  was  hot  and  the  winders 
were  operi,  and  in  come  a  cloud  of  shad-flies  from  the  St.  Lawrence, 
that  the  Lord  always  sends  before  them  to  feed  on.  They  stuck  to 
the  walls,  and  filled  the  ladies'  dresses,  choked  the  lights  out,  and 
then  went  down  your  nose  and  mouth  by  the  hundreds.  If  it  warn't 
fun,  it's  a  pity.  When  we  went  in  to  supper,  the  floor  of  the  dancin'- 
room  looked  like  a  battle-field,  strewn  with  the  dead,  wounded,  and 
dying. 

"  Oh !  in  the  way  of  nateral  wealth  and  actual  poverty,  Nova 
Scotia  beats  all  natur'.  The  land  is  chock  full  of  coal,  iron,  copper, 
freestone,  asphalte,  slate,  gypsum,  grindstones,  and  the  Lord  knows 
what.  And  the  coast  chock  full  of  harbours,  and  the  waters  chock 
full  of  fish.  I  say.  Cutler,  if  we  only  had  it,  lick !  wouldn't  we 
make  a  great  country  of  it,  that's  all.  But  here  we  are  at  Port 
Jolly."  ^ 

"This  is  a  shoal  harbour.  Captain,"  said  the  pilot;  "we  mustn't 
go  any  further  in,  I  guess  we  must  anchor  where  we  be." 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  says  one  of  the  Sable  lliver  folks  that  came  t)S  in  a 
boat  to  us,  "  we  have  had  a  great  meetin'  to-day,  the  largest  I  ever 
saw  on  this  coast." 

"  It  was  the  largest-,"  said  I,  "  I  ever  saw  in  my  life." 

"Oh !"  said  he,  "you're  makin'  fun  of  us  poor  folks;  in  course, 
in  the  States  you  have  seen  an  assemblage  twenty  times  as  large." 

"Never,"  said  I,  "I  give  you  my  honour;  and  what's  more,  it 
was  the  richest  meetin',  too." 

"Ah!  there  you  are  again,"  he  replied,  "but  I  don't  sec  that 
poverty  is  to  be  laughed  at." 

"Nor  I  cither,"  said  I;  "but  I  don't  know  what  you  call  poverty. 


mm* 


I  don't  SCO  that 
you  call  poverty. 


AN    EXTENSIVE    PLAN    OP    REFORM 

I  should  say  that  meetin'  was  worth,  all  told,  two  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  pounds." 

"I  didn't  mean  no  offence,  Sir,"  said  he,  "and  I  don't  like  to  bo 
rigged  that  way.     Will  you  just  tell  me  what  you  are  at?" 

"Yes,"  sais  I,  "I  will.  You  said  you  had  a  great  meetin'  to-day. 
Of  course,  at  this  busy  season  of  the  year,  I  thought  you  was  talkin' 
of  the  mackerel  shoal,  which  was  the  largest  meetin'  of  them  I  ever 
saw.  It  was  a  mile  and  a  half  long,  and  more  than  half  a  mile 
wide,  if  it  was  an  inch;  and  it's  time  you  did  meet  and  consart 
measures  for  catchin'  of  them." 

"Well,"  said  the  man,  half  ashamed  of  himself,  "perhaps  it 
would  have  been  as  well  if  we  had  adjourned  the  meetin'  to  a  more 
convenient  time ;  but  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  the  fish  have  struck 
in,  in  such  numbers." 

"  Yes,"  sais  I,  "it  will  be  a  grand  time  for  the  gulls  and  porpoises, 
for  I  suppose  nothin'  else  will  disturb  the  fish  amost,  for  spring  work 
is  come  on,  and  the  ground  must  be  tilled,  and  public  meetin's  are 
come  on,  and  representatives  must  be  chose ;  and  then  the  roads  are 
to  be  repaired,  and  it's  the  only  chance  you  have  of  airnin'  a  little 
ready  money.  You  needn't  hurry  though,"  sais  I  "for  you  know 
there  is  a  fall  run  of  fish  as  well  as  a  spring  one,  and  the  fall  fish,  in 
a  gineral  way,  are  the  best." 

"  You're  severe  on  us,"  said  he ;  "  but  I  don't  know  but  what  wo 
desarve  it  too." 

"  Come  and  sit  down  then,"  sais  I,  "  along  with  me,  and  I'll  tell 
you  a  story,  and  comment  on  it  as  I  go." 

"  Exactly,"  sais  he,  "  what  they  call  expound." 

"  The  very  thing,"  sais  I.  "  It's  a  way  of  talkin'  I  like  amazinly. 
The  last  time  I  was  to  Windsor,  Nova  Scotia,  I  met  Peter  Ham,  an 
inmate  of  the  poor-house,  whom  I  saw  crawlin'  along  on  the  ferry 
hill  there,  into  the  village.  •  ^, 

" '  J  wish  I  was  Governor  of  Nova  Scotia  for  one  day.  Sir,'  sais 
Peter;  'just  for  one  day  only,  and  that's  all.' 

"  Even  Peter  was  a  reformer,  and  perhaps  knew  as  much  of  the 
subject  as  most  folks  do,  for  it  aint  every  change  that's  a  reform, 
that  is  a  fact,  and  reforms  aint  always  improvements.  The  fact  is, 
'reform'  is  a  cant  word.  There  is  cant  in  politics  as  well  as  in  reli- 
gion, and  hypocrites  of  either  kind  arc  rascals.  A  good  man  don't 
talk  of  his  religion  for  everlastingly,  and  a  good  subject  finds  he 
has  as  much  liberty  as  is  good  for  him  or  his  neighbours.  Piety 
aint  found  in  pot-houses,  nor  patriotism  in  mobs  or  mass-meetins. 
Don't  trade  with  a  man  that  is  over  sanctimonious ,  or  you  will  be 
taken  in ;  or  be  too  thick  with  a  demagogue,  or  you  may  be  taken 
np.  Fermentation  throws  up  scum,  and  agitation  brings  rascality  to 
the  top  of  the  pot.  For  my  part,  I  hate  politicks.  Tliere  arc  cleanei 
things  to  handle,  and  pleasanter  to  smell. 


'mM 


m 


V.       ■•:■'     '    t 


226 


AN  EXTENSIVE  PLAN  OF  REFORM. 


t 


"  There  are  two  kinds  of  reform  in  the  world  —  personal  reforms, 
and  reforms  in  the  State.  Now,  personal  reforms  can  bo  made  at 
any  time  we  like,  so  we  just  put  them  off  until  it  is  convenient ;  and 
sometimes  we  consait  we  can  do  without  them  at  all.  ^t  all  events, 
it's  like  takin'  physic;  it's  hard  to  swaller,  and  causes  wry  faces. 
Reforms  in  the  State  arn  pretty  things,  and  show  wisdom.  I  never 
met  a  man  yet  that  hadn't,  like  Peter,  some  little  pet  scheme  of 
reform  for  the  public.  The  most  disinterested  one,  too,  in  the  world 
— for  statesmen  are  very  disinterested  cattle. 

"Lord  John  had  a  Reform  Bill;  it  lowered  the  house,  but  it 
raised  him,  for  it  created  the  liberal  party ;  but  that  was  an  accident, 
of  course.  The  Brummigin'  patriots  are  all  for  free  trade,  a  thing 
in  England  that  must  be  cheap,  for  it  stands  on  one  leg,  and  has  no 
reciprocity.  It  will  lower  real  estate,  but  who  cares?  It's  the 
farmer's  look  out,  that.  But  it  will  lower  wages,  and  enable  the 
employers  to  sell  more,  because  they  can  sell  cheaper.  That  was  an 
accident  again,  of  course ;  it  was  quite  unexpected,  too,  by  them ; 
and  besides,  Australian  gold  will  stave  off  the  discover^/  of  that 
mistake /or  a  while.  The  great  thing  is  to  get  the  right  meanin'  of 
,  tarms.  Liberality  in  religion  now  consists  in  abusin*  your  own 
church,  and praisin'  every  other  sect,     i  '''  ;  i  ...7^  :. ^^f^ 

"  A  man  that  does  this  is  certain  to  go  to  Parliament,  for  he  is 
1  sure  of  the  votes  of  all  the  black,  white,  grey,  and  speckled  birds; 
but  then  a  seat  was  an  onexpected  honour;  he  never  dreamed  of  it; 
he  didn't  want  to  go,  but  he  could  not  refuse  so  large  a  constitu- 
ency's request.     Liberality  in  politics  means  talk  as  loud  as  you  can 
4  bawl,  and  as  long  as  you  can  stand,  on  the  five  points  of  the  people's 
charter ;  and  then  there  is  political  consistency,  which  means  ham- 
merin'  away  for  everlastinly  at  one  thing,  right  or  wrong.     Public 
burdens  is  a  good  subject  to  be  consistent  on.     There  must  be  an 
army,  and  a  navy,  and  government  estimates  must  pass,  so  opposin' 
'  'em  does  no  harm,  and  is  amazin'  popular,  tho'  a  man  don't  know  it. 
Hume  has  rod    that  hobby  for  thirty  years,  and  it  will  carry  him  as 
'  long  as  he  lives ;  and  lately  it  has  been  found  strong  enough  to  let 
Cobden  jump  up  behind  him,  and  take  a  canter  too. 

"  '  I  say,  old  boy,'  said  Cobden  to  him,  as  he  sprung  up  on  the 
crupper,  and  clasped  the  veteran  round  the  ribs ;  '  I  say,  old  boy, 
this  is  an  amazin'  easy  steed  to  ride,  aint  it  ?' 
"' Very,' said  Hume.  ':.  • 

"  '  Is  he  safe  ?'  ^  • 

"  '  Safest  hack  in  the  kingdom ;  and  I'll  tell  you  what  is  a  better 
recommendation.' 

■"  What's  that  ?'     •  ^      -  ,  "^^ 

(( 'Why  it  costs  nothin'  to  feed  or  keep  him;'  and  they  roared 
aind  laughed  so,  they  came  plaguey  near  tumblin'  off.  both  on  'em, 
safe  as  the  hobby  wae*  , 

W 


USti 


I. 

)iial  reforms, 
bo  made  at 
i^enient;  and 
U  all  events, 
53  wry  faco8. 
)m.  I  never 
it  scheme  of 
,  in  the  world 

house,  but  it 
3  an  accident, 
trade,  a  thing 
y,  and  has  no 
€s?  It's  the 
id  enable  the 
That  was  an 
too,  by  them ; 
overi/  of  that 
'ht  meanin'  of 
5m'  1/our  own 

lent,  for  he  is 
peckled  birda; 
dreamed  of  it; 
'ge  a  constitu- 
Dud  as  you  can 
of  the  people's 
means  ham- 
rong.  Public 
•e  must  be  an 
|ss,  so  opposin' 

don't  know  it. 
Ill  carry  him  aa 

enough  to  let 

kng  up  on  the 
say,  old  boy, 


rhat  is  a  better 


id  they  roared 
\.  both  on  'em, 


AN  EXTENSIVE  PLAN  OF  REFORM. 

"It's  a  great  thing  for  a  nation  to  have  such  patriots.  There 
ought  to  be  an  institution  at  Manchester  to  manufacture  ready-made 
politicians  arter  the  same  pattern — a  coarse,  cheap  article  for  expor- 
tation to  the  continent,  or  the  colonies.  I  make  no  doubt  they  could 
be  aftbrded  low,  if  there  was  only  a  demand  for  them. 

"  But  I  sot  to  work  to  tell  you  a  story  that  I  picked  up  durin'  my 
last  visit  to  Nova  Scotia,  and  the  reflections  on  it  —  like  old  addition 
and  substraction's  hobby — carried  me  ofiF,  and  ran  away  with  me  j  so 
that  now  the  story  has  more  hair  than  head. 

"  'I  wish  I  was  governor  for  Nova  Scotia,'  said  Peter,  *just  for 
one  day.' 

*'  *  Sit  down  here  now,  Peter,  and  tell  me  what  you  would  do  if 
you  was  governor.'  :  "  ■• 

'•'Yes,  but  if  I  sit  down,'  said  Peter,  *I  can't  get  up  again 
without  help.' 

"  Poor  fellow,  he  was  nearly  bent  double  with  rheumatism,  the 
jints  of  his  legs  were  all  but  ossified,  and  refused  to  obey  his  orders ; 
and  he  had  to  toil  most  laboriously  with  crutches,  and  advanced 
slowly  on  his  road,  and  but  a  few  inches  at  a  time. 

" '  I'll  make  a  seat  for  you,  Peter,'  and  I  placed  a  pole  in  the  angle 
of  the  rail-fence,  so  that  he  could  rest  himself  while  ho  developed  to 
me  his  grand  scheme  of  reform  for  the  benefit  of  the  country. 

"  *  You  see,'  said  Peter,  '  this  is  a  dreadful  steep  hill,  Sir  —  right 
between  the  poor-honse  and  the  town ;  and  it  takes  me  nearly  all 
day  to  get  there  and  back  agin,  for  it's  the  matter  of  a  mile  each 
way.  You  haven'  got  a  piece  of  tobacky,  have  you.  Sir,  you  could 
give  me?  Thank  you  kindly.  Sir;  I  always  consait  it  does  me 
good ;  and  that's  grand,  only  perhaps  it's  a  little  grain  too  mild.' 
"' But  the  hill,  Peter  ?' 

" '  Oh  !  yes.  Sir ;  it's  a  cruel  hill,  that.  I  wish  I  was  governor 
of  Nova  Scotia  just  for  one  day.'  v       "     ,     ' 

" '  What  would  you  do^^ Peter  ?'  a     - 

"  <  Why  I'd  move  the  poor-house  into  the  town,  and  then  a  rlieu- 
matized,  lame  old  fellow  like  me,  could  get  his  glass  of  grog  without 
toilin'  all  day  for  it.' 

"  *  Peter,'  said  I,  '  you  are  a  sensible  man ;  I  wish  you  were  go- 
vernor with  all  my  heart ;  few  governors  would  be  so  reasonable. 
Here's  some  money  to  pay  for  the  grog.'  " 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  said  Bluenose,  "  that  is  a  very  good  story,  and  I 
shall  not  forget  it ;  there's  a  good  moral  in  it." 

"  There  is,"  said  I,  "  and  I  will  tell  you  what  the  moral  is.  It 
shows  you  how  great  the  folly  and  vanity  of  statesmen  is — what  a 
di^  ersity  of  wishes  all  mankind  have,  and  what  a  personal  application 
almost  every  man  makes  of  politics  to  his  own  individual  benefit  and 
advantage.  It  shows,  too,  how  little  we  really  do  want  of  legisla- 
tion, and  how  small  a  portion  of  our  welfare  and  comfort  is  dependent 


m 


I' 


i€!iii' 


l»?'^*, 


228 


AN  EXTENSIVE  PLAN  OF  REFORM. 


on  governors  or  assemblies.*  The  States,  to  my  certain  knowledge, 
have  been  totally  and  entirely  ruinated  several  times  in  ray  memory, 
and  yet  things  went  on  much  the  same  after  each  ruination,  and  the 
country  is  still  left,  and  so  is  the  constitution,  and  the  people  are  still 
thrivin'  and  prosperous.  Peter  Ham  knew  what  ho  did  want,  and 
that's  more  than  most  people  do;  for  half  the  time  when  folks  get 
their  own  way,  they  aint  satisfied.  I'll  tell  you  another  story  to 
illustrate  that. 

"  In  course  you've  heard  tell  of  Van  Buren ;  you  know  he  was 
made  President  of  our  almighty  republic.  Well,  the  Irish  all  went 
in  up  to  the  handle  for  him,  for  in  a  general  way  they  all  go  one 
way,  which  gives  them  great  influence  at  elections.  When  it  was 
over,  says  Peter  Mulkahy  one  day  (at  New  York)  to  another  Irish- 
man, one  Paddy  Blake. 

"'Paddy,'  sais  he,  'we've  gained  the  day,  and  got  our  man  in; 
Van  Buren  is  President.  Hurrah  for  ould  Ireland  !  we're  the  boys 
that  did  it.' 

"  ' In  is  it  he  is  !*  sais  Pat;  '  the  devil  ho,  13  !  then  I'm  agin  him 
now,  for  I'm  agin  all  governments.' 

"Hullol"  sais  I,  "what  in  natur'  is  all  that  cheerin'  ashore 
there?" 

"  Why,  sais  Bluenose,  "  our  party  has  got  the  victory,  and  our 
nomination  has  succeeded.     We've  carried  the  day." 

"Well,  that's  a  great  matter,"  sais  I,  "aint  it?  You'll  have 
better  times  now  to  Nova  Scotia,  won't  you  ?" 

"Well,"  sais  he,  (and  he  did  look  ashamed,  that's  a  fiict,)  "I 
won't  say,  as  the  Irishman  did,  that  I'm  agin  him ;  but  I'll  tell  you 
what  I'll  do  —  from  this  day  out  I'm  agin  all  politics,  and  that's  a 
fact." 

"That's  right,"  sais  I,  "give  me  your  hand;  stand  up  to  your 
lick-log  like  a  man,  be  they  consarvativcs  or  liberals,  /or  they  are  all 
ta,rrcd  loitli  the  same  stick.  They  differ  in  name  like  maize  and 
corn,  hut  it's  the  identical  same  grain.  If  you  don't  find  yourself 
better  off  "in  the  long  run,  my  name  aint  Sam  Slick,  that's  all. 
Liberty  is- a  very  good  thing  for  slaves  to  work  out,  but  free  men 
should  find  somethin'  else  to  talk  about.  Talk  never  put  a  crop  in 
the  ground,  and  if  that  aint  tilled,  thistles  and  weeds  supply  its  place. 
The  wages  of  idleness  is  poverty.      To  find  hidden  gold  is  to  find 

*  "Why  have  I  strayed  from  pleasure  and  repose, 
-■■"■■       To  seek  a  good  each  government  bestows  ?  X'\ 


.t. 


m.-- 

f- 


,  -X-  *  -X-  *  -X-     ■  .-.:^.:  ;■.  - 

*  *  -IS-  *  -X-  ..   ■ '       '        -i' 

JIow  small,  of  all  that  human  hearts  cndnro,  .  -^  '"  "  ' 

That  part  which  laws  or  kings  can  cause  or  cure." 

Goldsmith's  Thavelluii. 


%■ 


knowledge, 
ly  memory, 
on,  and  tho 
pic  are  still 
i  want,  and 
en  folks  get 
bcr  story  to 

mow  ne  was 
isli  all  went 
y  all  go  one 
iVhen  it  was 
lothcr  Irish- 

our  man  in ; 
e'ro  the  boys 

'm  agin  him 

serin'  ashore 

;ory,  and  our 

You'll  have 

a  ftict,)  ^'  I 
I'll  tell  you 
and  that's  a 

up  to  your 

c  all 

nd 


they  ar 


maize  a 

[find  yourself 

that's   all. 

\\xt  free  men 

)ut  a  crop  in 

pply  its  place. 

Id  is  to  find 


«^ 


**>■ 


^uavellkh. 


OOOSE    VAN    DAM. 


temptation  and  siii,  hut  that  thaf/s  earned  has  no  alloi/  in  it.  These 
are  nateral  truths,  Mr.  IJluenoso,  put  them  into  your  pipe  and  smoko 
them  on  your  way  homo  to  Sable  llivcr,  and  see  how  you  like  the 
tiavour  of  them." 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 
GOOSE   VAN  DAM. 


Whether  I  really  was  unwell  when  I  left  homo,  or  only  con- 
saited  I  was,  as  I  said  before,  I  do  not  know ;  but  it  is  certain  that 
these  short  sea-trips,  change  of  air  and  scene,  and  the  excitement  of 
meetin'  old  friends  agin,  has  done  me  a  great  deal  of  sarvice.  Down 
to  Lunenburg,  the  Dutch  people  use  ox-carts,  and  always  travel  in 
one  track,  and  it  cuts  up  the  road  so  that  the  ruts  are  hob-deep 
amost. 

The  dull  straight-forrard  course  in  life,  without  varyin'  the  track, 
furrows  the  mud  up  the  same  way.  Wo  must  leave  the  highway 
sometimes  and  take  to  the  bye-roads,  or  lanes,  or  forest-paths.  The 
air  is  diflferent,  the  scenery  devarsificd,  the  parfume  of  the  firs  and 
pines  smell  fragrant,  and  the  birds  sing  more  at  their  case.  Tho 
quiet  of  the  country  calms  the  nervous  system,  gives  us  somcthin' 
new  to  think  of,  as  well  as  to  see,  and  the  population  is  different,  and 
so  is  their  parsuits.  Gunnin'  is  cxcitin',  and  leads  to  exercise,  and 
BO  dous  fishin' ;  and  huntin'  gives  a  grand  appetite,  and  puts  a  feller 
in  first-rate  condition.  Well  then,  talk  to  new  people  is  pleasant ; 
you  get  new  ideas  from  them,  and  it  brings  out  new  ones  from  you. 

I  have  larnt  a  good  deal  from  my  oicn  talk.  Often  when  I  have 
been  advisin'  a  man,  or  funnin'  of  him,  new  reasons  or  new  illustra- 
tions have  sprung  up  of  their  own  accord,  that  I  never  thought  of 
before.  It  has  made  my  opinions  stronger,  or  given  me  cause  to 
change  them  in  some  particulars.  I  jyn  not  certain  whether  a  man, 
if  he  could  be  sure  not  to  be  overheard,  was  to  think  aloud,  but  what 
it  would  be  beneficial  to  him.  It  would  take  off  tho  dreaminess  of 
thinkiu'  and  its  castle-buildin',  and  give  reality  to  his  reasons,  and 
life  to  his  humour.  Musin's  aiiit  livofitahle  in  a  gineral  way^  for 
they  are  like  the  dews  of  night  —  early  sunrise  dries  them  right  up. 
Sayin'  is  doin'.  Musin'  is  dreamin\  What  we  say,  we  remem- 
ber; what  we  dream^  can't  be  wrote  down  and  sworn  to,  that's  a 
fact. 

Well,  arter  one  of  these  summer-runs  at  grass,  we  return  to  tho 
business  of  life  new  men,  and  we  are  better  able  to  work,  and  like 
it  better  for  the  change  agin. 

20 


%l 


^^u^ 


280 


OOOHE    VON     DAM 


Dr.  Sobieski,  u  surgeon  to  Slickvillo,  who  was  a  Polo  —  I  don't 
mean  a  poor  stick,  but  a  German  Polaoder — a  very  clever  man,  oYily 
ho  warn't  very  easy  to  uiiderBtaTKl,  tor  he  had  forgot  his  own  lan- 
guage, and  hadn't  larncd  Knglish  right.  The  boys  used  to  call  him 
"  Old  Telluiidgor,"  because  when  they  teazed  him,  he  always  pro- 
nounced those  four  words  in  one  —  "  To  h — 11  with  you  I"  Some- 
times they  used  to  call  him  "  Old  Sober-isky,"  for  ho  was  an  awful 
fellow  to  drink.  When  folks  talked  to  him  about  bein'  such  a 
toper,  "Ah!"  he  used  to  say,  '*  my  poor  country  is  robbed  and 
plundered  so,  wo  have  an  old  sayin',  '  Only  what  I  drink  is  mine,' 
and  I  likes  to  own  as  much  as  I  can."  Well,  "  Old  Tellmidger" 
was  the  first  to  open  my  eyes  to  the  value  of  change  of  air. 

"You  can't  kco  the  air,"  said  he,  "Mr.  Slick;  and  if  you  want 
to  analyze  it,  you  can't  catch  it  —  what  you  call  nab  him."  r 

"  It  can  catch  you  tho,"  sais  I,  "  when  it's  twenty  below  zero,  and 
shave  you  in  no  time,  quick  as  wink."  Oh,  how  he  used  to  hate  a 
joke  I  for  he  didn't  clearly  onderstand  it,  and  it  used  to  put  him 
out  in  his  gibberish.  He  had  great  spikes  of  teeth,  fit  to  nail  down 
a  two-inch  plank  amost,  and  he'd  show  them  as  spiteful  as  a  bull-dog, 
and  give  ''em  a  grit,  as  if  he  was  a  filin'  of  'cm,  and  say : 

"  What  for  teyvil  you  do  dat  —  Tellmidger  1"  • 

"  Well,  go  on.  Dr.  Sober-isky,"  I'd  say. 

"Well,  you  can't  see  the  air,  nor  analyze  it,  nor  taste  it." 

"You  can  smell  it  tho'  sometimes,"  I'd  say.  And  then  he'd 
stop,  stamp  on  the  ground,  and  grit  again  awful  mad.  But  I'd  say, 
"I  beg  pardon;  I  won't  interrupt  you  again.  Dr.  Sober-esky.  Pray 
go  on." 

"  Tellmidger  Sober-esky  !  he'd  say. 

Well,  if  you  was  to  interrupt  him  a  thousand  times,  he'd  always 
begin  at  the  beginnin'  agin,  if  he  had  to  go  a  hundred  yards  back. 

"  You  can't  see  do  air,  or  analyze  it,  or  taste  it;  all  you  know  is, 
it  is  what  you  call  mystery,  ijnota,  wonder,  von  grand  puzzle.  You 
can't  explain  de  modus  operandi"  (for  h3  could  talk  Latin  as  easy 
as  he  could  drink) ;  "  but  you  watch  it,  an'  see  the  eflfects,  and  leave 
the  causes  to  be  explorated  hereafter.  Now  you  will  send  your 
child'"  (I  was  agoin'  to  say  I  hadn't  got  none,  but  I  knew  how  mad 
it  would  make  him ;  so  I  let  him  go  on.)  "  You  will  send  your 
child  into  de  next  street,  that  has  got  hoopin'-cough  so  bad,  it  coughs 
its  boots  upamost,  and  he  will  get  well  straightway — de  air  is  changed. 
What  make  change  of  air  in  two  street  joinin'  on  to  each  oder,  both 
on  de  same  hill,  and  same  level,  and  de  same  wind  blow  over  both, 
we  cannot  say.  De  fact  is  sartain ;  de  cause  unknown.  To  be 
healthy,  you  must  change  air,  change  diet,  and  change  drink." 
;,  "Aye,"  said  I,  "and  change  doctors  too."  He  fi!xed  his  eyes  on 
me,  and  glared  like  a  tiger;  but  before  he  got  out  that  ugly  word 
of  his,  "  You  are  perfectly  right.  Doctor,"  sais  I ;  "  there  is  great 


•¥.■ 


•:\. 


.H^-: 


iv'li*-  J. 


mMJJ!U 


0008G    VAN    DAM. 


2^1 


truth  in  what  you  say.  You  aro  n  closo  observer,"  and  poor  Old 
Sobcresky  was  right.  Onct  when  I  was  to  Windsor,  I  bad  a  dread- 
ful cold  in  my  head ;  I  could  hardly  seo  out  of  my  oycs,  and  my 
two  nostrils  felt  as  largo  and  as  ugly  as  two  broken  panes  of  glass 
in  a  winder  stopped  up  with  old  bats.  I  fairly  felt  no  bow  all  over. 
Well,  I  just  happened  to  tbink  of  "Old  Tollraidgcr's  Tbcory  of 
Obange  of  Air,"  ordered  Old  Clay  into  tbo  waggon,  streaked  it  off 
over  the  mountain,  and  up  to  Kentville  in  no  time ;  and  tbo  next 
mornin'  felt  like  a  new  man.  Change  of  air  has  operated  liko  a 
charm  on  mo  this  time.  I  sartainly  feel  as  I  used  to  did,  when  I 
kept  travellin'  over  Nova  Scotia  all  the  time.  I  actilly  consait  I  am 
better  lookin'  too,  than  I  was.  I  never  looked  in  my  glass  so  often 
as  I  have  since  I  left  Sophy ;  but  I  railly  do  kinder  think  it  has 
improved  my  daguertype,  jist  enough,  perhaps,  to  be  takiu'.  A 
sickly  face  is  repulsive,  a  delicate  one  is  intercstin*.  I  wish  I  had 
left  sometbin*  behind  me  at  CoUingwood's,  besides  my  heart,  for  an 
excuse  to  go  back  for  it.  There  would  be  plenty  of  time,  while  the 
vessel  is  at  Port  Midway,  wouldn't  there  ?  or  I  could  overtake  her 
at  Petite  lliviere.     Is  there  anythin'  I  could  invent? 

"  By  your  leave,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  the  pilot,  '•'  I  want  to  let  go  the 
mainsail,  for  we  are  forgin'  too  far  ahead  rather."  (I  guess  /  arrif 
thinks  I  to  myself.)  "  Let  go  the  anchor.  If  we  make  as  good  a 
trade  here  as  we  did  at  Port  Jolly,  we  shall  do  a  considerable  busi- 
ness, I  guess.  It's  a  pity  we  couldn't  have  stopped  at  Liverpool 
though  too,  for  there  are  more  folks  there;  but  ^Iv  j  have  a  custom- 
honse,  and  it  wouldn't  be  safe  to  venture  there ;  and  besides,  coun- 
try harbours,  for  our  trade,  is  better  than  towns.  There,  the  people 
have  to  go  to  the  marchant;  here,  we  carry  the  store  to  them.  It 
makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world  that.  Ah  I  here  come  the 
boats  off.  Well,  then,  I  guess  I'll  go  ashore  and  see  my  old  friend, 
Goose  Van  Dam.  Ho  lives  in  the  white  house  on  the  hill.  If  I 
am  wanted,  you  can  send  for  me." 

Speakin'  of  Van  Dam  reminds  me  of  what  I  have  said  afore  in 
my  journal,  that  I  don't  believe  there  is  a  man  or  woman  in  the 
world  hardly  but  what  has  some  peg  or  another  for  pride  to  bang  bis 
hat  on.  Even  in  the  States,  folks  cock  up  their  chins,  and  talk  of 
great  folks  to  England  they  are  connected  with.  All  the  rael  heirs 
of  all  the  grand  titles  in  the  kingdom  are  to  be  found  in  the  great 
cities  there.  There  is  many  a  duke  with  his  arms  in  a  homespun 
coat,  his  coat  of  arms  in  a  book,  and  only  wants  the  means  to  get 
justice  done  and  have  his  title.  Father  always  said  he  was  the  rail 
undoubted  Prince  Scblick,  and  sister  Sail  will  believe  to  her  dyin' 
day  that,  now  the  old  man  is  gone,  I  am  the  rail  Simon  Pure.  Well, 
it's  a  cheap  bit  of  pride,  and  costs  nothin'  but  a  stretch  of  fancy|j 
and  when  folks  say  what  they  actilly  believe,  why  there  can't  bo 
much  of  an  ontruth  in  it. 


lit 


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..  V/i, 


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232 


GOOSE    VAN    DAM. 


t 


'm  „ 


But  pride  has  always  a  sore  bpofc  somewhere,  that  the  more  you 
•  cover  it,  the  redder  it  looks,  and  the  tenderer  it  gets.  Sally  is  ter- 
ribly scared  to  hear  of  a  wooden  clock,  and  no  thin'  makes  her  so 
mad  as  for  folks  to  call  me  "  Sam  Slick,  the  Clockmaker."  She  sais 
it's  very  rude  to  call  a  gentleman  Sam,  for  shortness ;  they  might 
as  well  say  Sambo  at  oncet.  And  when  she  writes  to  me,  she 
always  addresses  the  letter  to  the  "  Honourable  Samuel  Slick,  late 
of  the  Embassy  to  the  Court  of  St.  James's,  but  now  at  Halifax, 
Nova  Scotia;"  and  puts  in  tho  corner,  "care  of  the  United  States* 
Consul."  Poor  thing !  it  pleases  her  for  the  postmaster  to  Slickvillo 
to  see  such  a  letter.  She  says,  she  likes  to  let  some  folks  know 
who  some  folks  are,  and  tosses  up  her  pretty  little  mug,  when  she 
hands  in  the  letter,  with  an  air  as  much  as  to  say,  "  that's  my  brother 
with  that  handle  as  long  as  a  corn  broom  to  his  name." 

I  do  railly  Tbeliev^e  that  if  one  of  them  young  chaps  in  the  com- 
missariat that  sarves  out  soap,  coals  and  candles  to  Halifax  was  to  go 
to  Onion  county,  he'd  marry  the  richest  gall  in  it,  for  his  title  beats 
all  natur'.  considerin'  his  rank,  which  ia  only  one  notch  above  a 
clerk,  a,iid  his  pay,  which  don't  afford  new  clothes  till  they're  want- 
ed— depu^-assistant-commissary "general !  Oh  I  Sally,  if  I  had  such 
a  handle  as  that,  it  would  upset  such  a  little  word  as  Slick  after  it 
right  off.  It  couldn't  stand  straight  and  hold  it  up.  Thinkin'  of 
young  commissaries,  reminds  rae  agin  of  what  I  oncet  heard  of  two 
old  coves,  heads  of  that  department,  for  there  is  an  official  pride, 
and  a  pride  of  doin'  things  by  rule. 

When  I  was  to  Gibraltar,  there  was  an  old  commissary-general 
who  was  on  his  last  legs,  tor  the  king's  stores  never  sarve  out  new 
ones,  and  he  had  to  set  about  his  last  accounts,  pretty  hard  accounts 
coo  to  pass  sometimes,  showin'  a  balance  ginerally  agin  a  man  in  the 
long  run,  notwithstandin'  all  the  credits  he  can  set  down.  •  Well, 
you  can't  put  them  old  coons  out  of  their  way,  do  what  you  will. 
Things  must  be  done  jist  so,  have  jist  so  many  black  lines,  find  rod 
lines,  and  columns,  and  headings,  and  totals,  and  countersigns. 
Well,  this  old  man  when  he  was  all  doue,  sent  for  the  governor  to 
see  him,  and  take  leave  of  him. 

"Governor,"  said  he,  "I  am  a  very  fortunate  man." 

"  How  so ?"  said  the  General.  "I  am  delighted  to  hear  it.  How 
so?" 

"  I  have  had  a  bishop  with  me  in  my  last  illness.  It's  a  great 
comfort  to  treat  with  heads  of  departments,  aint  it  ?"    :-  . 

"  You  are  sure  all's  right  then  ?" 

^'No — mis — mis — take — in — the — vou — vou — vouchers, '  and  ho 
opened  }iis  eyes  and  mcuth  wide,  and  kicked  the  bucket  right  off. 

I  heard  the  Governor  toll  that  story  himself  one  day,  when  he 
lunched  on  board  of  old  Ironsides,  as  we  call  the  'Constitution' 
frigate.     He  enjoyed  it  very  much,  and  said  he  knew  another  just 


A 


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lear  it.    How 


GOOSE    VAN    DAM. 


233 


exactly  like"  it.  Tho  chaplain  called  on  one  of  these  issuer-generala 
of  good  things,  who  was  travellin*  the  last  road,  faster  than  he 
knowed  of  himself,  and  advised  him  to  prepare  for  a  gineral  give  out 
of  the  machmery.  He  said  ho  hoped  ho  would  excuse  him^  but  he 
really  felt  it  to  be  his  duty  to  talk  seriously  to  him. 

"Well,  Sir,"  said  he,  *'I  will  excuse  you  upon  this  one  occasion, 
as  I  have  no  doubt  you  mean  well,  and  £ire  unacquainted  with  official 
etiquette,  altho'  your  ignorance  greatly  surprises  me.  You  can  hold 
yourself  in  readiness.  Sir,  when  required.  In  the  meantime  you 
must  know  that  my  medical  man  has  nou  reported  to  me  that  I  am 
in  danger  :  when  he  does.  Sir,  it  will  be  time  enough  to  hear  what 
you  have  to  say.     Good  mornin',  Sir,  I  won't  detain  you." 

While  these  things  were  passin'  in  ray  mind,  I  reached  Van  Dam's 
house.  .*-^  i  «.  >.. 

"  Is  Goose  to  hum  ?"  said  I,  addrcssin'  myself  to  his  handsotno 
young,  wife. 

"  Pray,  Sir,  who  do  you  call  Goose  ?"  said  she,  slightly  colouring 
and  bridlin'  up  a  considerable  sum.  ■    ^-.'si^j 

"  Why,  Goose  Van  Dam,  to  be  sure,"  sais  I.  "  Who  else  should 
I  call  by  that  are  cvcrlastiu'  handsome  name?"  -, ;,, 

''You  are  very  free  and  easy,  Sir,"  said  she. 
"  It's  a  way  I  have  among  friends,"  sais  I,  sittin'  down  coolly  in 
a  chair.  -  -; '"    v-v  : 

"  You  had  better  keep  it  then,"  she  replied,  "  till  you  are  among 
'em.     What  might  your  business  be  ?"  said  she,  qui^T  short, 

"Well,  don't  you  be  a  goose,  then,  at  any  rate,''  I  replied,  "and 
fly  off  the  handle  for  nothin'  that  way.  You  was  always  skittish, 
Kate.  Do  you  recollect  the  night  you  held  the  lantern  to  me  down 
to  the  Five  Houses,  the  time  I  dug  up  tho  French  captin,  and  got 
his  belt  of  doubloons  off  his  skeliton,  and  you  got  skeerd,  and  dropt 
the  light,  and  left  me  in  the  dark,  in  the  grave  there  ?  Warnt  that 
a  proper  lark  ?  Lord  how  often  I  have  larfed  over  that,  when  I 
have  thought  of  it  since.  Oh  !  them  was  the  times  for  light  heois 
and  light  hearts." 

"  Well,  I  am  a  goose,  that's  a  fact,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  shfi ;  "  for  I 
ought  .0  have  know'd  you  at  once.  But,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  she, 
risin'  and  tappin'  me  on  the  shoulder,  "  don't  mention  that  are  story 
to  Van,  that's  a  good  soul ;  for  though  he  is  the  best-tempered  man 
agoin',  he  is  of  a  very  jealous  turn,  and  ho  mightn't  jist  altogether 
like  it.  No  one  knows  it  but  you  and  me,  and  perhaps  we  might 
have  been  better  imployed.     But  here  he  is  himself." 

Goose  was  like  most  of  those  of.  Dutch  descent  on  that  cop.st,  a 
very  large  powerful  man.  He  was  tall  an'  bony,  though  not  stout 
or  corpulent,  and  stooped  a  little,  which  night  perhaps  be  occasioned 
by  the  weight  of  his  enormous  fists,  each  of  which  looked  as  heavy 
to  carry  as  a  six-and-thirty-pound  shot.  His  countenance  was  opeu 
20*  . 


,1 


m 


1,^    t 


284 


GOOSE    VAN    DAM. 


and  jolly,  but  there  was  that  about  his  mouth  that  gave  you  the 
idea  of  a  man,  who  if  he  got  a  notion  in  his  head  onct,  would  defy 
all  the  world  to  get  it  out.  He  had  an  awkward  trick,  when  he 
spoke  to  you,  of  tuggin'  at  his  shirt-collar,  in  a  way  that  caused  you 
to  rejoice  he  had  a  coat  and  waistcoat  on,  or  that  garment  would 
have  been  in  danger  of  goin'  over  his  head  at  last.  He  had  the  air 
of  a  man  who  was  well  to  do  in  the  world,  and  his  house  and  estab 
lishmcnt  bespoke  thrift,  order,  and  comfort. 

"  How  are  you,  old  fellow  ?"  sais  I.  "  I  was  jist  a  tellin'  youi 
\vife  bow  green  she  must  have  been  to  have  married  a  man  with  such 
an  all-fired  name  as  Goose."  ,  r-^; , 

"  Well,"  said  he,  tryin'  to  larf,  though  it  went  agin  his  grain, 
"  she  knew  I  was  no  fool,  if  I  was  a  goose.  But,  Mr.  Slick,  I  have 
been  so  bothered  ever  since  I  was  a  boy,  w  th  that  name,  that  I  have 
had*  half  a  mind  to  quit  the  country  and  change  it.  It  was  an  old 
family-name  among  us,  when  we  lived  at  Albany,  afore  the  revolu- 
tion.    There  has  always  been  a  goose  in  the  family." 

"  So  I  should  think,"  sais  I.  But  seein'  I  was  distressin*  the 
flock,  I  added:  "I  should  like  to  know  what  good  family  in  New 
York  State  there  aint  one  in  ?"  >  «>. 

"I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  he.  "But  confound  it,  it's  enough 
to  drive  a  feller  mad,  a' most !    When  I  was  a  youngster,  other  boys 

led  out, 


VUii. 


1  << 'Goosey,  goosey  gander,  '  w  •       ;  '' 

■\Vliither  do  you  wander  ?' 

or  they  would  stand  on  one  leg,  as  if  they  was  a  w.itchin'  of  the  n^'-t, 
and  quarke,  and  call  my  little  sisters  '  goslins !'  Many  a  time  I 
have  set  them  a  larfin'  the  other  side  of  their  mouths,  I  know.  If 
a  father  and  mother  want  you  to  honour  them  accordin'  to  catechism, 
they  shouldn't  g've  a  child  such  a  name  as  '  Goose !'  " 

"You  mustn't  talk  nonsense,"  sais  I;  "you  might  as  well  drop 
the  'dam'  at  the  end  of  your  name,  cause  it  sounds  profane. 
*  Goose  is  good  Dutch,  and  so  is  '  dam,'  too.  Some  of  our  first  chop 
folks  are  connected  with  that  family.  The  great  Van  Home,  of 
Albany,  was  a  Goose." 

"Why,  you  don't  say  so !"  said  he.  ^. 

"But  I  do  say  so,"  sais  I;  "and  it's  generally  allowed  the  King 
of  Holland,  that  give  up  his  crown,  was  a  Goovse.'' 

"Do  you  hear  that,  Kate?"  said  the  pacified  man.  "'I  always 
told  you  I  came  of  a  good  family,  and  now  I  hope  you  believe  it." 

"  Seein'  is  believin',"  said  she.  "  Now  ask  if  dinner  is  ready. 
Why,  Mr,  Slick,"  said  she,  as  soon  as  he  was  gone,  "  what  a  droll 
man  you  be  !  But  mind  and  keep  dark  about  the  doubloons.  Ob  ! 
what  a  touss  folks  made  about  diggin'  up  that  Frenchman  !  They 
actilly  oflFered  a  reward  of  fifty  pounds  to  find  out  wLo  it  was ;  and  I 


mmtm 


tve  you  the 
would  defy 
k.  when  he 
1  caused  you 
rment  would 
J  had  the  air 
16  and  estab 

.    ••        '      * 

,  tellin'  youi 
an  with  such 

in  his  grain, 
Slick,  I  have 
J,  that  I  have 
It  was  an  old 
e  the  r£Volu- 

■  •x'-s--  '■^  •■■ 
iistressin*  the 

iraily  in  New 

t,  it's  enough 
er,  other  boy8 


|i)'  of  the  n^^t, 

any  a  time  I 

I  know.     If 

I'  to  catechism, 

^t  as  well  drop 

mds   profane. 

our  first  chop 

Ian  Home,  of 


|)wed  the  King 

"  I  always 
Lu  believe  it." 
tiner  is  ready. 
["  what  a  droll 
libloons.  Oh  I 
imanl  They 
it  was  J  and  I 


GOOSE    VAN    DAM. 


2^^ 


never  changed  the  old  gold  till  last  summer,  when  I  was  in  Boston. 
Do  you  think  there  was  any  harm  in  it  ?" 

"Well,  1  don't  know,"  sais  I,  "for  I  never  thought  about  the 
harm;  but  there  is  one  thing  I'll  promise  you — "  *< 

"What's  that?"  said  she. 

"  Why,  if  ever  you  are  a  widder,  I'll  never  dig  up  Goose,  that's  a 
fact.     Mind,  you're  bespoke." 

"Pooh!"  said  she,  lavfin',  "don't  talk  nonsense.     Let's  go  to 
dinner."  i 

A  good,  plain,  substantial  meal  it  was,  too;  jist  what  it  ought  to 
be,  and  what  it  is,  in  every  substantial  farmer's  house  in  the  country. 
"  Mr.  Slick,"  said  the  good-natured  host,  "  there  was  a  droll  thing 
occurred  the  other  day,  down  to  Five  Houses."      jf'?? :'  f 

"  There  have  been  a  good  many  droll  things  happened  there,"  said 
I,  a-winkin  to  his  wife. 

"I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  he.     "You  must  tell  me  some  of 
f.^^n;  for  there  is  nothiu'  I  like  so  much  as  a  good  story."     Kato 
'        I  at  that,  passed  her  hand  over  her  face,  and  managed  to  let 
her  fore-finger  rest  on  her  lips  as  a  signal.     "  Did  you  know  the 
Snare  galls  ?"  said  he. 
"  A  large  family,  the  Snare  galls !"  said  I,  laughin'. 
"You  may  say  that,  Mr.  Slick!"  said  his  wife,  enterin'  into  the 
joke  with  spirit. 

"I   shouldn't  wonder,''  said  Goose,  lookin'  puzzled.      "Well, 
Kitty  Snare  married  Conrad  Shupe.     You  knew  Conrade  Shupe; 
he  was  the  son  of  Old  Crouse  Shupe,  that  lived  down  to  Bernardi's 
Point.     Bernardi  was  an  Italian,  and  used  to  sell  lookin'-glasses  and 
pictures  to  Halifax,  and  then  went  and  settled  to  the  Point." 
"  Well,  yon  will  never  get  to  the  point,"  said  his  wife. 
"I  shoiiJ^^Ui'?;  wonder,"  said  Goose;  "for  it's  worth  two  thousand 
pounds,  BT  '  Ti;!0j'°  money,  on  account  of  the  sea-weed.    I  have  always 
set  my  he      -  Ci.  *\ie  Point." 
"  You  'i  ^,c'  Y. M  of  it  some  o'  these  days,"  sais  I. 
"I  shouldn  t  n-tider,"  said  he;  ''for  Lawyer  Lybolt  sais  it  will 
come  to  the  hammer  yet."       '  '  ,/•-'..;* 

•'  Well,  you  are  a  ninnyhammer,"  spid  she,  roarin'  with  laughter. 
"  Let  me  tell  the  story,  for  it  will  take  you  all  day." 

"  I  phouldn't  wonder,"  sais  he ;  "  for  when  I  gets  to  the  Point,  it 
puts  everythin'  else  out  of  my  head.  It's  the  greatest  point  on  the 
coast  for  sea-weed;  there  '3  lashions  of  it,  after  a  southerly  gdle. 
Thesh,    ^— " 

" M  .  l-^Hck,"  p'  j  said,  "there  aint  much  point  in  the  story;  and 
what  liti^-  tuere  is,  ho  has  taken  off." 

"  All  the  teams  in  the  township  wouldn't  clear  off  that  Point," 
ho  replied. 
"  Shupe,"  she  went  on  to  say,  "  aint  like  my  husband,  the  best 


fT-W 


a    m 


'111  " 


:irv 


236 


GOOSE    VAN    DAM. 


ivri 


tempered  man  in  the  world,  but  jist  the  revarse  —  a  great  cross- 
grained,  crabbit,  sour-crout  Dutchman;  and  he  don't  use  his  wife 
"ffell  at  all.  He  makes  her  work  harder  than  any  hired  help,  and 
won't  allow  the  men  folks  to  wait  on  her  at  all." 

"He  wants  to  get  to  the  Point,  too,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  Goose; 
"that's  the  reason  he  saves  all  so  close." 

"  The  other  .day.  Van  and  I  went  over  there  to  see  them,"  she 
continued,  "  and  she  asked  us  to  stay  to  dine ;  and  when  dinner  was 
ready,  she  blew  the  conch-shell,  and  up  come  Conrad  and  the  men 
folks,  and  down  we  sat.  I  thought  I  should  have  died  a  larfin'  to 
see  his  face,  when  he  had  done  sayin'  an  overly  long  grace,  opened 
his  eyes,  and  looked  down  at  the  table.  There  was  a  raw  fillet  of 
veal,  and  a  raw  codfish,  and  raw  potatoes,  and  corn,  and  peas,  and 
beans,  jist  as  they  came  from  the  garden.  Didn't  he  stare,  that's 
all?" 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,'   ,        ' xoose. 

"  Do  be  (^uiet,"  said  his  v,  o,  impatiently.  "  First  h6  stared  at 
the  table,  and  then  at  his  wife,  and  then  at  Van,  and  then  at  me, 
and  I  tee-heed  right  out;  I  could' nt  hold  in  no  longer;  I  had  a  pain 
in  my  sida  for  a  week  arterwards.  : "'      ■  '  "* 

"  '  Pots  tauzend ! — thousand  devils !'  said  he, '  what  is  the  meanin' 
of  all  this  ?     The  Lord  sends  provisions,  but  the  devil  sends  cooks.' 

" '  I  wish  he  would  send  me  one  then,'  said  his  wife,  '  for  there  is 
neither  wood  nor  water  in  the  house.  I  can't  cook  without  them ; 
and  what's  more,  never  will  cook  with  them  either,  after  this ;  so 
there  now.'  >  ^  ; 

"  It  sarved  him  right,  didn't  it  ?" 

"I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Van  Dam.  "For  I've  had  a  .  ind 
to  sarve  him  right,  too,  often  and  often;  for  he  always  calls  me 
Goose  afore  folks,  because  he  knows  I  don't  like  it." 

Sais  I,  "  My  good  friend,  give  over  talkin'  nonsense  about  your 
name.  Instead  of  bein'  ashamed,  you  have  reason  to  be  proud  of  it. 
A  goose  too,  so  far  from  being  a  foolish  bird,  is  a  very  wise  one.  A 
flock  of  geese  saved  Rome  onct." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Master  Van,  "for  a  flock  of  wild  ones 
saved  La  Halve  Island  onct.  They  got  overloaded  with  sleet  and 
wet  snow,  and  lighted  on  the  clcarin'  one  spring,  aud  was  caught 
there,  and  actilly  saved  the  folks  from  starvation." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  out  of  gratitude  to  these  birds,  the  Italians 
erected  a  college  for  'em  at  Rome,  and  called  it  the  '  Proper  Gander* 
College." 

"  What !  geese  in  a  college  ?  Mr.  Slick,  I  shouldn't  wonder  now 
if  that  arnt  one  of  your  good  stories."  -    ' 

"Geese  in  a  college,"  sai^i  I;  "to  be  sure,  they  have  them  in 
every  college  in  the  world.  They  always  call  the  head  Don  an  old 
goose,  ott  account  of  his  rod  nose  and  his  down  bed.    Very  polite 


.•lJA& 


.M^y^ 


r:zcT 


:i       i 


GOOSE    VAN    DAM. 


287 


great  cross- 
use  his  -wife 
3(1  help,  and 

said  Goose  J 

5  them,"  she 
n  dinner  was 
md  the  men 
jd  a  larfin'  to 
Trace,  opened 
I  raw  fillet  of 
,nd  peas,  and 
3  stare,  that's 


ho  stared  at 
then  at  me, 
I  had  a  pain 

is  the  mcanin' 
.  sends  cooks.' 
!,  <  for  there  is 
'ithout  them; 
after  this;  so 


had  a  .  ind 
vays  calls  me 

about  your 
e  proud  of  it. 
wise  one.     A 

;  of  wild  ones 
[ith  sleet  and 
|d  was  caught 

the  Italians 
loper  Gander* 

It  wonder  now 

lave  them  in 

Id  Don  an  old 

Very  polite 


birds  t^o,  arc  geese.  You  never  see  a  flock  yet  enter  a  door,  even 
if  it  was  eight  foot  high,  but  every  one  on  'em  bows  his  head." 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  that's  a  fact,"  said  he,  "for  I've 
observed  it  myself." 

"  Oh !  Mr.  Slick,"  said  his  wife,  who  enjoyed  this  banter  and  non- 
sense, "  what  a  man  you  be.     You  havn't  altered  a  bit." 

"  What !"  said  he,  suddenly,  as  if  some  onpleasant  suspicion  had 
entered  into  his  mind,  "  did  you  over  see  my  wife  before  ?" 

"I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  I,  a-mockiij^  of  him;  '5 for  I  have 
seen  everybody  amost."  But  I  recollected  her  speakin'  of  his  bein' 
jealous.  So  sais  I  to  her,  "  Was  your  name  Oxley,  before  you  was 
married?"  ..'■..''■■  /v  '.-y''     ...      *  ':•>'■•*;:'   -  ,,.,. >^-;f 

"  No,"  sais  she.      /„..:■..-.-     .'i.. ;...      ■-  r    ■  .v>  -  •  ,\,vi%?v". 

"WasitZink?"      ,,   '  •    .      •  :,: -tr    *      ' 

"No."  '"  ■      .    ^->• 

"  Well,  it  must  have  been  Wolf,  then  ?' '       "  -  .    .^'  r  •  ; 

" No,  it  warn't  Wolf  or  Fox  either."  . .  i-  •■"..^^r.-iv; 

" Was  it  Zwicker ?"  .:    '  v^      ;>v    r^ 

"  No,"  said  she ;  "  I  was  a  Ilawbolt." 

"  A  Hawbolt,"  sais  I.  "  Was  you  a  Hawbolt  of  Country  Har- 
bour, to  the  eastward  of  Halifax,  or  a  Hawbolt  of  La  Halve?" 

"  From  La  Halve,"  said  she.  "  And  when  you  came  in,  I  actilly 
didn't  know  you  at  first  from  Adam." 

"Well,"  sais  I,  "I  knew  I  had  seen  you  somewhere  this  side  of 
the  grave,  too." 

"  The  grave  !  what  grave  ?"  said  Van  Dam. 

Kate  looked  frightened  to  death ;  her  lips  opened,  as  if  for  brejfth, 
her  colour  faded,  and  she  contracted  her  brows,' as  she  looked  at  me, 
to  intreat  caution. 

"  Why,  grave,  a  vessel  to  be  sure,"  sais  I ;  "  there  was  one  on  the 
beach  when  I  was  there,  and  they  was  a-gravin'  of  her."    ;;  'Vity; ; 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Goose,  who  now  appeared  satisfied 
with  the  explanation. 

"  But  this  is  dry  work  talkin',"  suis  I,  "  Goose,  and  it's  awful  hot ; 
that's  a  good  feller,  draw  a  little  fresh  water  from  the  well." 

"Yes,"  said  his  wife,  "and  aint  there  a  little  brandy  in  the 
closet  ?" 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  he.     "  See  if  there  aint." 

As  soon  as  he  absented  himself,  she  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Slick,"  said  she,  "  how  could  you  scare  me  so  ?  If  he 
was  onct  to  get  hold  of  that  story,  I  should  never  hear  the  last  of  it, 
he  is  so  jealous." 

"  I  see  he  is,"  sais  I,  "  and  I  havn't  time  now  to  explain  all  to 
you;  but  I  will  to-morrow;  in  the  meantime,  turn  to,  and  pretend 
to  be  jealous  of  him.  You'll  cure  him  in  no  time.  Try  him.  I 
will  give  you  an  opportunity  when  ho  returns."  » 


J,'""" 


I  ■,:,  ^11 


!' 
J -I ' 


I*  ' 

l.ri 


I       iJ 


238 


GOOSE    VAN    DAM. 


^■*.; 


'^V 


'■Si 


"  I  am  afraid/' she  raid.  ^  :•'  v.;v»;.> 

"  /  tell  you  try  him  this  once,  and  see  how  he  li/ces  it.  It  is  a 
rule  in  life.  If  a  critter  makes  a  charge  af/in  you,  turn  the  table 
on  him  :  accuse  him,  and  let  him  defend  himself.  It  will  give  him 
plenty  to  do.  It's  a  plaguy  sight  easier  to  make  a  charge  than  to 
explain  one  away."  .r    :  t. -,,"  .^  ?-^, 

When  he  returned  with  the  water,  I  lit  a  cigar,  and  went  on  with 
the  conversation  just  where  we  laid  it  down. 

"  I  wonder  you  don't  recollect  gravin'  that  vessel,  Goose,''  said  I, 
"  for  I  mind  you  put  the  mop  into  the  hot  tar,  and  daubed  young 
Metzler  with  it  for  teasing  you  about  Tereza  Hebb."      -^*'  •.•-* 

"  Tereza,  who  ?"  said  his  wife.      '  ' 

"  Tereza  Hebb,"  sais  1,  "  that  he  was  a-courtin'  of  at  that  time." 

"Who,  me?" 

"Yes,  you."  .  ^  ,  •';,•. 

"  What,  Tereza  Hebb  ?" 

"Yes,  Tereza  Ilebb.  You  had  better  pretend  now  you  don't 
recollect.     Ah,  Goose  !"  said  I,  "  you're  a  sly  fellow." 

"  Well,  upon  my  word,"  said  his  wife,  "  this  is  a  pretty  spot  of 
work  !  Why,  Goose,  aint  you  ashamed  of  yourself  ?  Tereza  Hebb! 
the  bold,  forrard,  impudent  hussy  !  She  was  here  no  longer  ago  nor 
last  week.  If  ever  I  catch  her  inside  this  house  agin  !  And  when 
she  found  Goose  was  to  Halifax,  Treza  —  as  he  calls  her  so  lovin'ly 
— wouldn't  stay  with  poor  me.  I'll  give  her  a  piece  of  my  mind. 
Goose,  why  didn't  you  tell  me  of  this  before  ?  Oh  dear !  how  deceit- 
ful some  men  are  !  Tereza  Hebb,  eh  ?  Why,  I  never  heard  of  this 
tilf  this  blessed  moment !" 

"Nor  I  neither,  dear,"  said  he,  "so  don't  take  on  that  way, 
Kate  love."  "  .^:-  ... 

"  Oh  !  love  me  no  loves !"  said  she.  "  I  wish  I  was  in  the  grave !" 

And  seein'  he  was  a-holdin'  down  of  his  head,  she  gave  me  a 
wink  at  that  word  'grave',  as  much  as  to  say,  there  would  be  a 
plaguy  sight  more  fun  there,  thu.-  foolin'  this  way.      '■:-,'-  '^^ 

"Why,  Kate  dear,"  said  her  husband,  "how  can  you  talk  so? 
it's  only  one. of  Mr.  Slick's  good  stories." 

"  Oh  !  I  dare  say  you  think  it  a  good  story.  I  don't  wonder  you 
call  it  so.  Tereza  Hebb ;  I  wish  you  had  married  her.  Well,  I 
want  to  know — Mr.  Slick,  do  tell  me  all  about  it;  let  me  know  the 
worst." 

"No"'  said  I,  "I  won't.  I  am  sorry  'I  mentioned  it,  but  I 
thought  everybody  kne.w  it.  Come,  let  us  change  the  conversation. 
Now,"  sais  I,  "  Van  Dam,  I'll  tell  you  a  story  about  a  goose  that 
happened  to  Halifax  when  Prince  Edward  was  there.  I  had  it  from 
an  old  gentleman  that  was  in  the  7th  Fusileers  at  the  time."  . 

"Tereza  Hebb!"  said  Kate;  "why  it  aint  possible.'' 
t    ".Pooh I"  sais  I;  "I  believe  you  are  jealous?"  ■ .,     ,  ; 


risy 


aoOSE    VAN    DAM. 


239 


"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Oroose. 

"Wonder!"  said  she,  and  I  touched  her  foot  under  the  table  to 
be  quiat.  ;vV;"<^. 

The  worst  of  advisein'  a  woman  is,  they  overdo  things,  and  carry 
'em  too  far,  and  spoil  all  j  so  I  jist  joggled  her  foot. 

'•  The  7th  Fusileers,"  said  I,  "  was  stationed  to  Halifax  when  the 
Prince  was  here ;  and  the  mess-man  kept  an  everlastin'  large  poultry- 
yard.  He  used  to  buy  a  whole  flock  of  geese  at  a  time,  fat  'em,  and 
kill  'em  as  he  wanted  them.  Well  in  one  of  these  flocks  there  was 
a  feller  that  was  onder  standard-height,  as  they  call  it  in  the  army ; 
and  when  all  was  killed  but  him,  ho  was  turned  over  to  the  next 
flock,  till  he  should  be  fit  for  the  table.  But  whether  he  didn't  like 
these  strange  birds,  or  they  didn't  like  him,  or  he  didn't  call  on  the 
new-comers  and  leave  his  card,  and  they  took  ofience  or  what  not,  I 
don't  know.  At  all  events,  they  lived  apart,  like  officers  and  soldiers, 
and  he  made  up  to  the  mess-man,  and  always  followed  him  about 
the  yard  everywhere,  and  he  fed  it  himself.  At  last  the  man  grew 
fond  of  the  bird." 

"  Oh  !  in  course,"  said  Kate;  "  he  is  not  the  first  man  that  grew 


fond  of  an  under-sized  bird;  but  go  on,  Mr.  Hebb — I  mean  Slick." 
"  Do  be  quiet,"  sais  I ;  "  for  every  word  of  this  story  is  true. 
And  he  said  it  shouldn't  be  killed.  It  soon  became  a  general  pet  in 
the  regiment;  everybody  fed  it,  and  coaxed  it,  and  made  much  of  it. 
Well,  at  last  it  took  up  its  beat  with  the  sentry  at  the  barrack-gate, 
and  used  to  march  up  and  down  with  him,  and  hundreds  of  people 
used  to  go  to  see  this  extraordinary  goose.  Well,  there  came  ano- 
ther regiment  about  that  time  to  Halifax,  and  the  Prince  ordered 
two  companies  into  the  south  barracks,  where  the  7th  were  quartered, 
for  there  warn't  room  in  the  north  ones;  and  lo  and  behold !  when 
these  soldiers  were  on  guard,  the  goose  used  to  look  at  their  uniforms, 
turn  round,  and  off  to  the  poultry-yard,  until  some  of  the  men  of 
the  7th  were  on  duty,  when  he  regularly  marched  backwards  and 
forwards  with  them.  No  money  could  have  bought  that  bird.  All 
foreigners  and  strangers  used  to  go  there  to  see  him ;  and  the  Prince 
took  Louis  Philippe,  who  was  at  Halifax  at  that  time,  to  see  this 
great  attachment  between  the  bird  and  the  regiment. 

"  Well,  one  night — a  very  cold  night— the  sentry,  seein'  the  coast 
was  clear,  put  down  his  musket  in  the  box,  and  cut  across  the  street 
to  a  grog-shop,  to  get  a  glass  of  rum ;  but  the  moment  the  man  quit 
his  beat,  the  goosef  thinkin'  there  was  somethin'  wrong,  ran  after 
him,  squeakin'  and  squealin'  like  anythin',  and  kicked  up  an  awful 
bobbery.  So,  to  rid  himself  of  it,  he  seized  the  goose,  and  wrung 
his  neck  till  he  killed*  him.  The  noise  brought  out  some  of  the 
neighbours,  and  the  feller  was  found  out,  and  the  way  he  was  flogged 
was  a  caution  to  sinners,  that's  a  fact.' 


;; 


"That  was  a  faithful 


goose, 


>) 


said  Kate;  "it  wouldn't  go  after 


■^='t 


■MAXl:jimmitf'gi  '■■,.  :..V' 


240 


GOOSE    VAN    DAM. 


ry:\ 


strange  uniforms,  or  keep  company  with  them,  but  stuck  to  its 
family,  and  lost  its  life  in  their  service.    To  think  that  I  should  ever, 
take  Teresa  Hebb's  leavings.     Oh,  Mr.  Van  Dafe  !" 

"  Kitty,  dear,''  said  the  great  loon,  almost  blubberin',  "  there  aint 
a  word  of  truth  in  it;  and  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  showin'  mo  his 
great  sledge-hammer  of  a  fist,  "  I  insist  upon  knowin'  who  told  you 
that  story.*' 'V    .^iv'  :.':•,  .■■o'-.rv"--  ^■'^■'^''''■tj  :):-■'■"  "'■.■''■■   "■'' 

"Sartainly,"  sais  I;  "and  dig  it  into  him,  if  it's  false,  till  ho 
sings  out  for  mercy.''  ,  ,        .    r 

"  That's  just  what  I  will  do,"  said  he.  "  '  '  '  ' 
'•  "Well  thou,"  sais  I,  givin'  him  the  name  of  a  dead  man,  "you'll 
have  to  dig  him  up  first,  for  he  is  a  gone  goose.  It  was  Conrad 
Ernst,  and  suppose  the  whole  is  buried  in  the  grave,  with  him. 
Come,  shake  hands  and  make  up ;  for  jealousy  is  the  meanest,  and 
lowest,  and  most  despiseable  thing  in  natur'.  I  scorn  a  jealous  man 
or  woman  as  I  do  a  nigger."  :■      -.    -     ■  •••      v 

"I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Goose;  and  they  kissed,  and  were 
reconciled. 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  Mr.  Van  Dam,  if  you  weren't  such  an  awful 
jealous  pair,  I  would  like  to  have  that  smack  passed  round ;  but  as 
it's  too  good  for  me,  I'll  try  this  instead  (takin'  a  tumbler  of  punch). 
Here's  your  good  health !  long  life  to  both  of  you !  May  there 
always  be  a  goose  in  the  family !" 

Sophy  dear,  sais  I  to  myself,  when  I  turned  in,  you  needn't  be 
afeerd  of  me;  I  aint  a  goose,  and  I  won't  be  jealous.  First,  I  know 
I  won't  have  no  cause;  and  second,  I  consait  I  am  a  man  no  sensible 
gall  like  you  could  help  lovin';  and  third,  if  any  critter  came 
poachin'  about  my  presarves,  as  the  English  landlords  say,  I  rather 
guess  he'd  lam  I  can  find  food  for  crows,  as  well  as  f  hesants.  But 
will  1/ou  be  jealous,  that's  the  question  ?  I  ainc  so  sure  about  that. 
I'm  a  man  that's  fond  of  talkin'  to  women  naterally,  and  I  can't 
give  up  all  the  world  for  you,  and  more  nor  that,  I  won't.  You'll 
be  all  in  all  to  me,  but  still  there  js  the  world  left  after  all.  We 
must  onderstand  this.  If  I  don't  look  at  other  women,  I  can't 
compare  you  with  them,  and  say,  how  much  handsomer  you  are  than 
this  one,  or  how  much  more  sensible  you  are  than  that  one,  and  so 
on.  We  must  lay  doion  some  rule  about  jealousy.  What  shall  it 
he  ?  Suppose  we  take  the  rule  about  the  press.  ■  Be  free,  but  not 
personal ;  free,  but  decent ;  free,  but  not  treasonable  to  each  other; 
free,  but  not  licentious ;  free  niggersy  but  not  freebooters.  There 
must  be  some  rule,  that's  a  fact.  If  you  don't  like  that  one,  let's 
take  the  committee  rule,  each  of  us  shall  have  an  equal  voice.  .K 
we  can't  agree  we  will  adjurn,  report  progress,  and  ask  leave  to  sit 
again ;  and  if  we  still  differ,  I  will  give  the  castin'  vote  as  chairman. 
Take  your  choice,  dear,  of  either  of  these  rules,  for  I  wouldn't 
dictate  to  you  for  the  world.  And  now  that  wo  onderstand  each 
other;  good-night,  dear ;  God  bless  you ! 


]ml 


,  I 


A   HOT    DAY. 


•a?  ;>  ■»>  - 


•^^'v'^' 


241 


"  there  aint 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
A   HOT  DAY. 


■..  J' ■'■'■".   "- 


"■:^>''   ;.«';•  <(■■ 


On  the  followin'  luornin'  the  household  were  up  and  movin'  at  a 
very  early  hour.  A  hasty  breakfast  was  prepared  for  Goose,  who 
was  obliged  to  attend  an  auction  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  and 
did  not  expect  to  return  until  the  evenin\  I  walked  down  to  the 
beach  with  him,  assisted  him  to  push  off  his  punt,  and  begged  him 
to  return  as  early  as  he  could,  as  it  was  probably  the  last  time  I 
should  ever  be  in  that  part  of  the  country  again. 

There  was  every  indication  of  a  very  hot  day,  and  as  I  pointed  to 
the  mist  ascendin'  from  the  high  grounds  in  slow  and  sluggish 
wreaths,  I  said,  "  Goose,  this  day  is  goin'  to  be  a  sneezer,  I  guess." 

"I  shouldn't  wonder,"  he  saidj  for  not  troublin'  his  head  about 
matters  that  didn't  immediately  consarn  him,  he  was  seldom  sur- 
prised at  any  thin'. 

My  prognostications  were  fully  verified ;  it  was  a  day  of  intense 
heat.  As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  eastward,  the  sea  lay  like  an 
ocean  of  melted  silver.  Not  a  rimple  nor  dimple  nor  motion  was 
perceptible  on  it.  It  was  two  or  three  hundred  yards  from  the  house, 
so  that  you  could  see  its  bosom  heave ;  for  in  a  gineral  way  it  undu- 
lates even  in  sleep  as  a  female's  does,  and  I've  an  idea  that  the  rote 
on  the  beach  is  the  breathin'  that  swells  it,  when  restin'  in  slumber 
that  way.  It  shone  like  a  lookin'-glass  in  the  sun,  it  wasn't  easy  to 
look  at  it.  The  beach  is  fine  white  sand,  what's  called  house  sand,  and 
that  is  a  brighter,  clearer  white  than  the  sea,  and  dazzles  and  sparkles 
more.  You  could  actilly  see  the  heat  there,  for  it  seemed  as  if  there 
was  fire  onderneath.  Down  the  little  valley,  the  stream  seemed  as 
if  it  tried  not  to  make  a  noise  as  it  took  the  smoothest  course  to  the 
sea,  and  lingered  under  the  spruce  boughs,  as  if  it  would  give  any- 
thin'  to  go  to  sleep  there. 

Everythin*  was  still.  There  was  not  a  breath  of  air.  Even  Kate 
sat  quiet,  and  didn't  talk.  The  vessels  in  the  offin*  were  motionless, 
and  their  tall  slender  yaller  masts  looked  like  rays  of  light,  not 
descendin',  but  ascendin'.  The  cows  stood  still  in  the  brook,  a  ru- 
minatin'  on  things  in  general,  and  hot  days  in  particular.  The  birds 
hid  themselves  in  the  trees,  pantin'  with  the  heat,  and  the  very  in- 
sects thought  it  was  too  much  trouble  to  buzz ;  but  a  nasty  senseless 
locust  set  up  Q,  monotonous  song,  the  only  one  it  can  sing,  the  chorus 
of  which  sounds  amazingly  like  "  Aint  this  a  grand  day ..  jt  locusts  ?" 
If  I'd  a  had  my  gun  there,  I  would  have  shot  it,  for  I  was  listnin' 


242 


A    HOT    DAY. 


Ll 


to  two  sounds  I  do  dearly  love.  It  was  poor  old  Minister  first  ttiugbt 
mo  their  beauty.  Ho  used  to  say,  "  Sam,  there  are  two  sounds  I  do 
dearly  love :  the  ocean's  surfy,  slow,  deep,  mellow  voice,  full  of 
mystery  and  awe,  moaniu'  over  the  dead  it  holds  in  its  bosom,  or 
lulling  th(!m  to  unbroken  slumbers  in  the  chambers  of  its  vasty 
depths;  and  the  silvery  tone  of  the  windin'  brook,  as  it  rejoices  on 
its  way  to  the  parent  sea.  I  love  them.  I  love  to  bo  alone  with 
them,  and  to  listen  to  them.  Thank  God  for  all  His  mercies,  the 
capacity  for  enjoy  in'  nature,  only  Ho  that  gives  can  take  away.  No 
bankruptcy  reaches  that,  no  fire  destroys  it,  no  tempest  can  make 
shipwreck  of  it.  It  grows  and  increases  with  us  till  wo  see  beauty 
even  in  abstractions." 

So  do  I  love  them  too,  as  well  as  Minister.  And  I  love  Kate  for 
not  talkin'  just  now.  Confound  that  locust  I  say,  there  is  no  more 
music  in  him  than  a  boilin'  tea-kettle. 

Well,  jist  opposite,  in  the  work-shed,  is  a  man  pretendin'  to  work, 
but  it's  all  pretence,  for  he's  sittin'  down  on  a  pile  of  shavins,  with 
a  spoke-shavo  in  his  hands,  a  dressin'  of  a  piece  of  ash  that  is  held 
in  a  wooden  vice.  If  that  aint  the  perfection  of  lazy  whitlin',  then 
I  want  t<)  know !  for  he  uses  both  hands  to  the  knife,  and  don't  want 
to  hold  the  stick.  Now  and  then  he  gets  up,  stretches  himself 
straight,  to  see  that  none  of  him  has  got  unglued  with  the  heat,  then 
lifts  one  log  up  in  the  air,  and  then  the  other,  preparin'  for  his  patent 
foot-bath,  and  then  goes  to  the  well,  winds  up  a  bucket  of  cold  water, 
and  puts  half  of  it  in  one  boot,  and  half  in  the  other,  draws  a  long 
breath,  as  if  it  felt  good  to  have  water-tights  on,  and  returns  churnin', 
squish-squash,  as  he  goes  back  to  whittle.  Underneath  the  ox-cart 
the  big  black  dog  is  stretched  out  at  full  length,  and  his  great  red 
tongue  lollin'  out  of  his  head,  almost  as  long  as  his  tail.  He  is  too 
lazy  to  go  to  the  brook  and  take  a  swim,  it's  too  much  exertion  in 
the  middle  of  the  day  for  a  stout  gentleman  like  him,  who  has  no 
summer  clothes,  and  has  to  wear  his  winter  jacket. 

Now  an  ^  then  he  puts  up  his  paw  indolently  to  brush  off  the  flies 
from  his  naked  nose ;  but  before  the  huge  foot  descends,  the  flies 
are  off;  and  as  soon  as  it's  withdrawn,  back  they  light  to  torment 
the  unoffendin'  soul  again.  At  last,  he  loses  all  patience — and  it's 
very  hard  to  be  bothered  when  you  want  to  go  to  sleep — opens  his 
mouth,  rips  out  a  short  oath,  makes  a  grab  at  them,  and  kills  a  dozen 
of  them  right  off  at  one  snap.  But  outside  of  the  black  dog — not 
in  the  shade  of  the  ox-cart,  nor  under  the  great  beech-tree,  but  in 
the  fall  glare  of  the  sun,  with  his  head  uncovered  and  pillowed  iu  a 
mould  of  sand  that  fits  it  beautifully,  and  face  upturned,  not  only  in 
full  defiance  of  the  sun  and  flies,  but  in  the  enjoyment  of  both— 
lies  black  Scipio,  What  a  look  of  placid  happiness  is  on  his  face! 
grateful  to  the  Giver  of  till  good  things,  especially  of  hot  days,  and 
at  peace  with  himself  and  all  mankind.     He  is  just  what  a  Chris- 


'■■,>*,  '■■•• 


A     HOT    RAY. 


II 


'  i-^f 


2# 


f  I 


jre  18  no  more 


tian  ought  to  bo,  particularly  a  black  one.  I  liavo  often  thought  of 
that  landscape  at  Petite  Riviere  as  it  lay  stretched  out  afore  mo  on 
tliat  everlastin'  hot  day. 

Once  I  tried  to  sketch  it,  but  it  was  too  extensive.  The  sea- 
board view  was-  boundless.  The  vessels,  like  them  in  Dutch  paint- 
ins  of  calms,  tho'  true  to  life,  wanted  life.  They  were  straight  up 
and  down — stiif  and  ongraceful.  The  valley  and  tho  groups  I  got 
detached,  but  not  together.  Some  things  are  pretty  to  look  at,  but 
won't  make  a  pictur'. 

" Mr.  Slick,"  said  Kate.    ^^  <:..x*eUl^_.^     •    ;.-  -       '^V-^'.   ■•• 

"  What,  dear,"  said  I.  , 

"  Como  and  set  near  me  at  this  window  that  I  may  smell  your 
cigar,  for  it  is  so  hot  that  I  feel  faint." 

"  No  sooner  said  than  done,'^  said  I.  "  13tlt  hush !"  and  I  put  my 
hand  on  her  arm ;  "  hush  I  What  is  that  ?  Did  you  hear  that  loud, 
clear,  shrill  scream  ?" 

«  Oh,  Mr.  Slick  !"  said  she,  "  do  tell  me  what  that  is !  That  was 
nothing  human  !     How  piercin'  it  was  !" 

"  Human  I"  said  I ;  "  I  guess  not.  Seein*  you  and  me  together, 
p'raps  that  are  French  officer,  whose  belt  of  gold  we  dug  up  at  Five 
Houses,  has  blowed  a  whistle  at  us,  as  much  as  to  say,  '  Much  good 
may  it  do  to  you.'  " 

"  Oh,  my  sakes  I"  said  she,  "  I  wish  I  had  never  touched  it !" 

"  Or  perhaps  it  is  to  warn  Goose  that  I  have  got  nearer  his  pretty 
little  wife  just  now  than  he  would  approve." 

"Pooh!"  said  she. 

"  Well,  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  I,  imitatin'  of  him  to  the  life. 

"Do  you  believe  in  ghosts?"  said  she.  /^y-; 

"Well,  I  do,"  sais  1;  "that's  a  fact.  At  least,  I  can't  say  I 
don't.     I  try  to  believe  in  them." 

"Tiy  !"  said  she.     "Why,  how  very  odd  !"  ■'-    "^  '"  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  it's  the  most  delightful  thing  in  the  world  to 
believe  in  them.  When  I  die  I  ^ope  I  may  be  permitted  to  bo 
one." 

"  Well  I  never  in  all  my  born  days  !"  said  she. 

"Dancin'-in.the  sunbean>  when  it's  cool,  or  in  che  shady  groves 
when  it's  warm.  No  bones  to  ache,  no  flesh  to  pine  away,  no  heart 
to  grieve — all  shadowy  form,  all  calm  pleasure.  How  beautiful  the 
world  must  look,  and  all  that's  in  it !  and  the  mysteries  of  the  deep 
revealed,  and  dead  French  captains  with  belts  of  doubloons  round 
them  in  the  grave  !" 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Slick  !"  she  said,  "now  that  spoils  all.  Oh  !  go  on  as 
you  did.  That's  grand  about  their  being  kind  of  fairies.  T  like 
that.     Moonlight  must  be  their  holiday  time,  mustn't  it  ?" 

"  Yes,"  sais  I.  "  But  then  I'm  aftard  ft  must  be  dull  music,  foi 
there  is  no  love,  you  know,  no  hope,  no  fear,  no  heat,  no  cold.     A 


■M::^ 


iH 


A    HOT    DAY. 


:./^'!' 


k 


I; 


kind  of  SftTAenCss  is  fairy  Hfo,  too.  Put  your  arm  routid  a  neat  little 
article  of  a  female  fairy  and  there's  nothin'  to  squeeze.  Look  up 
into  her  face,  and  there  is  no  eyes,  only  expression — no  mouth, 
nothiu'  but  a  smile;  for  if  there  was,  there  would  bo  toothache.  If 
you  go  to  kiss  her,  your  head  goes  right  thro'  her  head,  and  her 
head  right  through  yourn.  There  are  no  lips.  In  th(x  long  run, 
p'raps  we  had  better  be  contented  as  we  be,  A  livin',  solid,  corn- 
fed  gall,  arter  all,  may  be  better  than  a  shadowy,  v&pory,  cold  fairy." 

"  Then  why  is  it  you  try  to  believe  in  them,  and  want  to  be  one  ?" 

"  Because  I  want  to  believe,  if  I  can,  that  them  that  loved  us  in 
this  world  are  about  us  and  around  us,  watchin  over  U3,  and  guardin' 
us,  both  asleep  and  awake,  and  intercedin'  for  us." 

"  Ah,  now  you  talk  sense,"  said  she.  "  That's  a  pretty  thought. 
Oh !  it's  a  shame  for  a  man  who  can  talk  as  well  as  you  can  to  mix 
up  so  much  nonsense  with  it.    Oh  !  that's  a  beautiful  idea  of  fairies  !" 

Here  again  the  same  shriek  was  heard  louder,  because  nearer  than 
before.     It  was  certainly  a  startlin'  sound — it  was  so  very  thrillin'. 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  said  she,  "  I  am  frightened !  What  in  the  world 
can  it  be  ?" 

But  I 'didn't  know  and  couldn't  exactly  guess.  But  as  I  never 
allow  myself  to  be  non-plussed,  sais  I : 

"  It  will  make  you  laugh  at  your  own  fears  when  you  do  know, 
and  see  what  it  is." 

A  man  should  never  say  he  don't  know  if  he  can  cut  round  a 
corner  any  way  in  the  world.  Men  who  have  the  greatest  reputatiou 
for  larnin'  more  nor  half  the  time  get  the  name  by  pretendin'.  A 
little  smatterin',  like  a  drop  or  two  of  essence,  goes  a  great  way.  It's 
easy  to  carry,  got  the  right  flavour,  and  no  one  knows  how  small  a 
quantity  you've  got  of  it.  When  I  was  to  London,  I  met  a  man, 
who  said  he  knew  thirty  languages,  and  he  used  to  write  poetry,  and 
pretended  they  were  translations  of  languages  of  the  dead,  or  them 
that  were  livin'  the  Lord  knows  where.  Old  Polyglot  I  used  to  call 
him.  I  shall  never  forget  the  rise  I  took  out  of  him  onct,  and  how 
I  made  our  Minister  stare.  He  was  dinin'  at  the  Embassy,  and 
said  he : 

"  Mr.  Slick,  how  strange  it  is  that  an  American  seldom  speaks  any 
language  but  his  own." 

Those  Britishers  have  always  some  fault  to  find  with  us,  and  think 
nobody  knows  anythin'  but  themselves. 

"Well,"  sais  I,  "that's  a  univarsal  one  amost.  Our  two  great 
nations  ^ave  spread  it  nearly  all  over  the  world.  But  how  many  do 
you  understand  y" 

"I'm  ashamed  to  say,"  said  he,  pretendin'  to  look  very  modest, 
and  talkin'  confidential  like,  "  I  only  know  thirty."  -  a: 

"  Thirty !"  sais  I,  "  why  that's  a  vast  number  for  one  little  tongue 
to  manage,  and  lick  into  shape  too,  aint  it?     What  a  wonderful 


h.^l^l'A.l 


ne* 


und  a  neat  little 
eeze.  Look  up 
ion — no  mouth, 
5  toothache.  If 
r  head,  and  her 
[u  the.  long  run, 
ivin',  solid,  corn- 
pory,  cold  fairy." 
vant  to  bo  one  ?" 
,  that  loved  us  in 
U3,  and  guardin' 

a  pretty  thought. 
18  you  can  to  mix 
1  idea  of  fairies  \" 
jcause  nearer  than 
60  very  thrillin'. 
'hat  in  tbe  world 

But  as  I  never 

en  you  do  know, 

1  can  cut  round  a 

greatest  reputatiou 

)y  pretendin*.     A 

I  a  great  way.   It's 

nows  how  small  a 

on,  I  met  a  man, 

write  poetry,  and 

he  dead,  or  them 

glot  I  used  to  call 

m  onct,  and  how 

le  Embassy,  and 

seld9m  speaks  any 

with  us,  and  think 

b.     Our  two  great 
But  bow  many  do 

look  very  modest, 

"r  one  little  tongue 
^bat  a  wonderful 


A    HOT    DAY. 


24^' 


thing  the  head  is,  to  hold  such  a  library.  It  always  seems  to  mo  to 
bo  like  an  Indian-rubber  bag,  however  full  it  is,  there  is  always  some 
room  for  a  little  more.  I  Hhould  be  almost  scared  to  stuff  mine  that 
way,  for  fear  it  would  squeeze  some  things  out  of  tother  eend;  aud 
when  you  went  to  look  for  'em  you'd  find,  us  a  fdler  docs  who  has  a 
thicvin'  servant,  that  they  were  gone,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  ser- 
vants would  swear  they  never  saw  'em,  they  must  have  been  lost  or 
broken  afore  they  came.     Thirty  languages!  why  do  tell?" 

Well,  he  looked  like  one  of  the  pyramids,  which,  every  time  you 
see  it,  seems  to  stretch  up  a  little  higher. 

"  Thirty !"  sais  I,  "  well  you  beat  me.  I'm  a  man  that  never 
brags  or  boasts,  or  sais  much,  being  a  silent  man,  in  a  general  way, 
and  likin'  to  hear  better  than  talkiu' ;  but  you  beat  me  all  holler.  I 
am  willin'  to  admit  my  deficiency,  I  can  only  understand  twenty- 
five." 

"  Twenty-five  !"  said  he.  • "  Mr.  Slick,  give  me  your  hand.  I 
believe  you  and  I  may  justly  boast  of  bavin'  made  greater  progress 
than  any  two  men  now  livin"." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  I  never  boast.     The  more  I  larn,  tli     more  it 

appears  to  me  I  have  to  larn.     But  between  you  and  me,  I  can  go 

11  one  eend  of  the  continent  of  America  to  the  other  (and  so  can 

^ody  that  is  fool  enough  to  try  it,  but  I  didn't  say  so;.     I  have 

Kcca  a  great  deal  among  the  Indians.    Can  you  speak  the  Mipmao?" 

"No,"  said  he.  '■'■  ^ 

''What  not  the  Micmac?"  sais  I;  "it's  what  the  Nova  Scotia 

Indians  talk.     It's  amost  a  beautiful  language,  but  they  use  terrible 

long  words.     You  see  they  have  plenty  of  leisure  to  talk,  as  they 

don't  work^  and  are  never  in  a  hurry,  so  they  take  their  time.    Now 

we  call  a  male  fowl  a  cock,  for  shortness,  they  call  him  keequwee- 

quechnabaoo.     The  only  thing  that's  short  is  countin',  for  that  must 

be  done  quick,  as  na-ookt,  one ;  tah-boo,  two ;  and  so  on.    Not  know 

Micmac,"  sais  I,  "  well,  it's  a  pity,  for  it's  the  most  perfect  Indian 

language  there  is.     Well,  there  is  the  Abenaqui,  that  is  the  New 

Brunswick  nation."         . 

"No." 

"  AVhy  how  singular,"  sais  I.  "  Nor  the  Red  Indians  ?"  (I  didn't 
tell  him  they  were  extinct), 
"x^o." 

"  Nor  the  Choctaw  ?  Iroquois  ?  Snakes  ?  Floridas  ? 
"No,"  sais  he,  "I  don't  understand  any  of  them." 
"  Well,  north  of  the  Great  Slave  Lake  is  another  family,  divided 
into  the  Copper  Indians,  the  Hare  Indians,  and  the  Dogribs  j  away 
off  south  is  another  division  of  nations,  such  as  the  Gallibees,  Puel- 
cliees,  and  Toupees.  The  Indian  languages  are  the  most  beautifu" 
in  the  known  world.  They  are  Indian-rubber  ones,  they  stretch  out 
It's  done  by  gummification,  addin'  on  extra  syllables." 

21*  .•=■;..,  :■  vf 


i«  " 


.A  \ 


h'iii^ 


:  "  "i 


I!- is 


.  I 


246 


B?P 


A^KOT 


DAY. 


.r-1 


^V 


'*'^'"  Agglutination,  we  call  ic,"  said  he,  correctiu'  rae. 

"I  know  yen  do,"  sais  I,  "and  most  pmbably  it's  the  proper 
word  in  your  cverlastin'  long  list  of  languages,  for  the  folks  that 
spoke  them  it's  likely  knew  what  glue  was.  Our  Indians  only  know 
gums.  Indeed  there  aint  any  glue  made  in  America,  except  at 
Charleston  and  New  Orleens,  and  that  is  the  best  in  the  world,  for, 
instead  of  the  skins  of  animals,  it's  made  out  of  nigger-hides,  espe- 
cially old  niggers,  who  are  biled  down  for  the  purpose.  That's  the 
meanin'  of  our  old  sayin'  '  it  sticks  like  grim  death  to  a  dead  nigger.' 
Uncle  Tom  told  me  it  was  a  positive  fact.'' 
■^^  « How  shockin',"  said  he.        ,'      .  -■  -%..:V> 

"  Oh,  yes,"  sais  I,  lookin'  innocent,  '^it's  shot  king  good  glue.  Now 
gu.-^min'  on  syllables  makes  one  word  express  a  vrhole  sentence,  the 
only  iLing  is  they  are  shockin'  long,  long  enou  ^o.  for  the  stringer  of 
a  bridge  a'most.'' 

"Do  they  write?"  said  he.  ,  ^    "  \t« 

"  Oh  yes,  they  write,  and  always  have  from  the  earliest  ages,  but 
it's  more  marks  than  letters.  Unfortunately  they  always  make  them 
in  blood,  as  you  might  suppose,  but  the  colour  and  meanin'  of  that 
fades  ont  in  time."  ,     ,  i    ; 

"  I  never  heard  that  before,"  he  said,  "  how  singular." 

"  But  the  most  curious  inquiry,  and  most  interestin',  far  beyond 
Polar  discoveries,  and  all  that  nonsense,"  sai,s  I,  "  is,  what  language 
Adam  and  Eve  spoke.  I  have  a  theory  on  that,  I  think  it  is  what 
the  Carribs  speak ;  for  they  lived  like  the  Carribs,  who  still  wear  Sg. 
leaved  aprons,  and  that  word  *  car,'  is  dear  or  sweet,  and  '  rib '  i,s  a 
woman  or  wife.  It's  a  wonderful  illustration  of  Eve's  formation, 
and  it's  a  plausible  theory  at  any  rate." 

"  No,  Sir,"  said  he,  lookin'  as  wise  as  I  did,  "  it  was  Hebrew,  I 
think." 

Here  Minister  rose,  and  we  joined  the  ladies;  and  Old  Polyglot 
told  Embassador  I  was  a  man  of  extraordinary  attainments,  but  of 
still  greater  modesty,  for  he  had  actually  to  draw  me  out,  I  was  so 
silent.  He  remarked  that  I  might  be  said  to  speak  every  language 
bui  my  own,  I  was  so  resarved. 

Pretend  you  know,  and  half  the  time,  if  it  aint  as  good  az  knowin', 
it  will  sarve  the  same  purpose.  Jfan^  a  feller  looks  fat,  who  is  onhj 
awelled,  as  the  Germans  say.     But  to  get  back  to  Mrs.  Van  Dam, 

"  Mr.  Slick,  do  you  think  that's  a  ghost  ?"  ♦ 

"  I  know  it  aint,"  sais  I,  "  for  ghosts  are  only  vapours,  and  the 
sun's  so  hot,  it  would  evaporate  it  right  up,  make  it  hiss  like  a  drop 
of  water  on  a  hot  stove.     Ghosts  never  walk  by  <lay." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Slick  !"  she  said,  "don't  talk  that  way.  You  don't  know 
what  you  are  a  sayin'  of." 

"Well,"  sais  I,  "sposin'  it  was  a  ghost,  it  mightn't  frighten  you 
BO  much  artcr  all.     I'll  tell  you  a  story,"  sais  I. 


's  the  proper 
he  folks  that 
ms  only  know 
ica,  except  at 
the  world,  for, 
■er-hidc8,  espe- 
L  That'3  the 
a  dead  nigger.' 


3od  glue.  Now 
B  sentence,  the 
the  stringer  of 


rliest  ages,  hut 
'ays  make  them 
meanin'  of  that 

lar.''        ■     '' 
itin',  far  beyond 
,  what  language 
hink  it  is  what 

0  still  wear  fig- 
,  and  'rib'  is  a 

ve's  formation, 

was  Hebrew,  I 

d  Old  Polyglot 

[nments,  but  of 

je  out,  I  was  so 

every  language 

kod  ac  knowin', 
fat,  who  IS  onhj 
b.  Van  Dam. 

lapours,  and  the 
'hiss  like  a  drop 

'ou  don't  know 
I't  frighten  you 


I#J 


A     HOT    DAY. 

"  Do,"  sals  bhe,  "  it's  a  great  privilege  to  hear  you  talk.  Come, 
what  is  it  ?" 

"  Well,"  e  is  I,  "  there  was  an  Irish  clergyman  to  Nova  Scotia 
some  years  ago ;  I  overhauled  him  on  tae  Halifax  road,  at  the  head 
of  the  basin.  He  was  one  of  the  kindest-hearted  old  men  I  ever 
knew ;  a  real  pleasant  feller,  and  no  nonsense  abo,ut  hiiu. 

"Hallo,  Slick!"  said  he,  "I  want  to  have  a  trade  with  you. 
Come  and  stop  with  me  to-night,  and  I'll  exchange  Irish  stories  with 
you  for  Yankee  ones." 

"  Only  too  proud,"  sais  I,  "  parson."  So  we  drove  on  to  bis  quar- 
ters, and  hauled  up  for  a  protracted  meetin'  that  night,  for  I  knowed 
when  he  got  a  talkin'  he'd  run  on  like  my  clock  for  twenty-four 
hours  on  a  stretch.  When  we  got  comfortably  settled  down,  sais 
he: — 

"  Come,  I'll  lead  off,  and  you  must  follow  suit.  In  my  parish  in 
Ireland  there  was  a  broth  of  a  boy,  called  Paddy  McQnade.  The 
divil  a  row  but  he  was  foremost  in,  or  a  fight  with  the  sodgers  but 
he  got  his  head  broke,  or  did  that  same  friendly  act  for  some  one 
else.  Well,  the  priest  could  make  no  hand  of  him  at  all,  at  all,  and 
he  used  to  warn  him,  he  would  be  sure  to  go,  when  he  died,  to  a 
certain  place,  that  aint  fit  to  be  spoke  of  in  genteel  company,  but  it 
was  all  to  no  use.  Every  time  ho  came  to  confession,  he  had  the 
same  long  list  to  go  over.  He  was  drunk,  or  he  took  a  shot  at  a 
polisheman,  or  pysoned  the  landlord's  dogs,  or  somethin'  or  another; 
and  he  seemed  to  get  worse  instead  of  better. 

" '  Pat,'  said  the  priest,  *  I  warn  you  for  the  last  time,  you'll  cer- 
tainly go  to  the  bottomless  pit.' 

"'Oh!  Father  John,'  said  he,  'don't  be  always  arter  botherin' 
me  about  the  bottomless  pit;  many  a  place  has  a  worse  name  than  it 
diisarves,  and  it  is  the  case  with  that  self-sime  one.  I've  been  there, 
and  a  dismal-lookin'  place  enough  it  is,  too ;  but  the  entertainment 
aint  bad,  if  you  have  only  plenty  money  in  your  pockets.  How  I 
got  there,  or  how  I  got  out,  is  more  than  I  can  tell,  unless  it  was 
your  riverence  treated  me  to  a  visit  to  scare  me.  Well,  there  was 
no  day  there,  no  sun,  no  moon,  no  stars,  but  all  was  as  dark  and  as 
black  as  the  haunted  bog,  where  the  heretics,  that  was  bui  led  in  the 
barn,  was  buried.  One  fine  night  I  wakes  up  there,  a? id  the  black 
divils  were  movin'  about,  and  the  fire  bumin'  out  of  their  head  like 
gas-pipes  to  light  'em.  The  top  of  the  mornin'  to  you,  sais  I,  to 
one  of  them,  that  looked  like  a  dacent  sort  of  imp  of  darkness 
There's  no  mornin'  here,  sais  he,  only  one  thunderin'  lung  night. 
Where  am  I  ?  said  I.  In  the  bottomless  pit,  said  he.  Ah  !  blood 
and  ouuds,  sais  I,  Father  John  always  told  mc  I'd  get  here,  but  I 
never  believed  him,  and  here  I  am  at  last.  Bad  luck  lo  it !  I  never 
thought  it  would  come  to  this.  I  thought  he  was  only  tryin'  to 
frighten  me.     Says  I,  have  you  anythin'  to  eat  or  drink  ?     Lashins 


248 


A     HOT    TAY. 


%y''> 


of  it,  says  ho,  if  you've  only  money  in  your  pocket.  Well,  I  made 
?.  dacent  meal  enough,  eonsiderin*  all  things,  and  took  a  taste  of  the 
cratur',  and  went  to  sleep  to  forget  my  misfortins ;  and  what  do  you 
think.  Father  John,  they  found  arter  all  f  I  wavn't  bad  enough  for 
them,  for  they  jest  turned  me  out,  and  laid  me  under  the  fence,  for- 
nenst  Tim  Maloney's;  and  when  I  waked  up  I  peeped  over  the  wall 
to  see  if  the  coast  was  clear,  and  off  home  as  fast  as  my  legs  could 
carry  me.' "  ?.  .'-'-'.^  ^''  r  ;Vv  '  ""'v^'^: ';'- '.: 

"Well,  the  priest  thought  he  had  delirium  tremene,  and  just 
turned  him  out ;  but  when  he  came  to  inquire  about  it,  he  found 
they  had  picked  him  up  drunk,  and  let  him  down  into  a  mir'.n' -shaft 
out  of  a  bit  of  a  spree,  and  when  he  came  to,  they  intoxicated  him 
again,  and  hauled  him  up  in  the  tub.  So,  don't  be  frightened,  dear, 
if  it  is  a  ghost,  I'm  not  afeard  of  them." 

"  What  a  strange  story,  Mr.  Slick  j  do  you  believe  it  ?" 

"Well,"  pais  I,  "I  give  it  to  you  as  the  parson  told  it  to  me; 
but  Irish  stories  can't  all  be  taken  for  facts.  Some  folks  tell  stories, 
as  if  they  happened  in  their  own  knowledge,  and  tell  'em  so  often, 
they  believe  them  themselves  at  last.  Whether  it  really  took  place 
in  his  parish,  or  he  made  it  out  of  the  wKole  clo#h,  or  read  it,  I 
don't  know;  I  give  it  to  you  just  as  I  got  it.  But  jisfc  look  out 
here,  Kate;  look  at  that  are  nigger." 

At  that  moment  a  young,  good-lookin'  black  man  made  his  appear- 
ance in  the  road.  He  had  a  pair  of  blue  cloth  trowsers  on,  a  white 
deeply-frilled  shirt,  with  high  stiff  starched  collars,  and  wore  a  black 
satinet  stock.  His  hat  was  rakishly  placed  on  the  side  of  his  head, 
the  wool  of  which  was  curled,  as  if  it  had  just  come  from  a  carding- 
mill.  In  one  hand  he  carried  his  coat  and  waistcoat,  and  with  the 
other  swung  a  little  yellow  rattan,  with  an  air  of  great  self-satisfac- 
tion. *  '       v 

When  he  came  to  where  the  old  nigger  was  asleep,  baskin'  in  tho 
sun,  he  paused  a  moment,  stooped  down,  and  uttered  that  terrific 
scream,  which  was  an  imitation  of  that  which  the  Loon  gives  when 
divin'  from  fright.  Mrs.  Van  Dam  gave  a  screech  herself  almost  as 
shrill,  and  springin'  up  fell  over  on  my  breast  and  shoulders.  Fact 
is,  I  was  scared  too,  not  at  the  black  feller's  yell,  but  at  the  situation 
we  two  was  in;  for  it  wasn't  just  the  place  for  another  man's  wife, 
and  that  a  jealous  man  too,  that's  a  fact.     3o  sais  I: 

"  Kate,  here's  Goose ;  be  quick." 

It  brought  her  to  in  a  minute. 

''  Oh,  dear !"  she  said ;  "  how  faint  I  am  1"  and  I  got  up,  and 
handed  her  a  glass  of  water. 

"Hadn't  you  better  go  and  lie  down,  and  compose  your/elf, 
dear  ?" 

"No,"  said  she;  "I'm  better  now.     I'm  glad  I  know  at  last 


A    HOT    DAY. 


U9 


ell,  I  mado 
iaste  of  the 
rhat  do  you 
enough  for 
3  fence,  for- 
ver  the  wall 
J  legs  could 

ys"^  and  just 
it,  he  found 
mir'n' -shaft 
Dxicated  him 
htened,  dear, 

,ld  it  to  me ; 
;s  tell  stories, 
'cm  so  often, 
lly  took  place 
or  read  it,  I 
jist  look  out 

.de  his  appear- 

rs  on,  a  white 

wore  a  black 

[e  of  his  head, 

j-om  a  carding- 

and  with  the 

.t  self-satisfac- 

Ibaskin'  in  the 
„  that  terrific 
in  gives  whcu 

self  almost  as 
)ulders.  Fact 
the  situation 

3r  man's  wife, 


got  up. 


and 


)ose   yourself, 
know  at  last 


what  that  sound  was.     Your  talk  about  fairies,  and  that  fellow's 
screamin',  nearly  set  me  crazy." 

"What  de  dcbbil  do  you  moan,  Caesai;?"  said  the  old  man,  "by 
makin'  dat  are  onmcauin',  misintelligible  noise,  you  ignorant  mis- 
broughtcn-up  nigger  ?" 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Scipio !  I  didn't  mean  no  manner  of  reraaginable 
harm,  only  a  little  fun,  I  do  ressure  you,  Sar." 

"Which  way  is  you  goin',  Caesar,  boy?"  said  the  old  man,  appa- 
rently satisfied  with  the  apology,  "  all  dress  out  so  pitticular  fine,  so 
airly  in  de  day  ?" 

"  Goin'  to  Halifax,  uncle,  to  de  great  ablution  meetin'  ob  de  people 
ob  color." 

"Much  you  knows  about  ablution — don't  you,  Caesar?  Now 
what  does  ablution  mean  ?"  :3  .;,'>'.- 

"  It  means  a  great  tea-party  and  ball  for  free  colored  people,  to  be 
sure,"  said  the  beau,  with  a  disdainful  toss  of  his  head.  "  We  is 
to  hab  de  military  band  to  play  for  us ;  for  de  gubbernor  is  a  great 
ablutionist."  *.;v,^  i '.  ^  >•■  ••    .•^:'^^'" 

"  Ki,"  said  Scipio,  "  de  gubbernor  only  tink  o'  dat.     Tat !  yah ! 
yah !     Is  de  gubbernor  a  colored  gentleman,  Caesar  ?" 
"  Oh !  Uncle  Scip,  you  knows  better  nor  dat,  what  nonsense  !'' 
"  What  de  debil  has  massa  gubbernor  or  you  eider  to  do  withv 
ablution.    Better  if  both  on  you  minded  your  own  business.    Neider 
of  you  knows  nufiin  of  what  you  is  a-talkin'  of.     Come,  Ca^  ir,  tell 
me,  boy,  is  you  goin'  to  dine  with  massa  gubbernor  ?" 
"  Why,  Uncle  Scip,  I  believe  you  is  crazy — me  !  wbv  no." 
"  Not  dine  with  de  gubbernor !     Yah  !  yah  !  yah  !       ^'f;ll  dat  do 
beat  all." 
"  Why,  uncle,  I's  only  a  nigger,  you  know." 
"  What  o'  dat  ?     Gubbernor  is  ablutionist. 
hisself  fust  of  his  pride  j  and  if  you  and  he 
equal  in  fact.     Dat  is  what  I  calls  ablution  in  airnest.     Didn't  Ad- 
miral Warren  steal  me  from  my  good  old  massa  on  de  Chesapeake, 
and  from  my  dear  missus,  and  my  warm  house,  and  fetch  me  down 
liere  to  starve  in  dis  intensible  cold  country.    Is  dat  ablution  ?    Yes, 
yes,  I  is  an  old  fool ;  but  I  knows  de  British  took  us  from  our 
'Merican  massas,  but  dey  didn't  take  us  ii})  to  demselves.    Now  look 
here,  Caesar,  for  you  is  a  smart  man,  consideriu'  how  your  edication 
was  so  shamefull  neglected,  nebber  havin'  been  among  gentlemen, 
but  only  Dutch  sour-crouts,  up  de  ribber  da,  who  is  most  as  ignorant 
as  deir  oxen.     Yes  !  you  is  an  understandin'  man,  and  good-lookin' 
nigger  too,  considerin'  do  almighty  hard  work  you  has  to  do ;  and 
dat  is  to  carry  de  ox- whip  all  day.    Yi^U  !  yah  !  yah  !    Well,  Caesar, 
boy,  I'll  tell  you  what  ablution  is.     In  winter  you  know  da  is  a  foot 
of  snow  on  de  ground."  w  ■"  ,:'^^ 

'Mn  course,"  said  Caesar,  lookin'  very  wise,  "I  knows  it." 


Let  him  mancipate 
is  equal,  make  you 


■■■■■V 


in 


-g^- 


250 


A    HOT    DAY. 


■/\k 


i 


"  Well  den  massa  gubbernor,  who  is  ablutionist,  sends  for  his  boas, 
and  sais,  *  You  bin  good  boss,  bcry  faithful,  bcry  trusty  j  I  gib  you 
bery  good  character.  Novj  I  mancipatc  you ;  you  free  nigga  now.* 
Well  de  boss  cock  up  his  ear,  hold  up  his  head,  stick  up  his  tail, 
and  kick  up  his  heels  like  de  debil.  Well  do  medder  is  all  covered 
"wid  snow,  and  dere's  nuffin  to  eat  dere;  and  off  he  goes  to  do 
farmer's  barn-yard;  and  farmer  he  set  de  dogs  on  him.  Den  ho 
take  to  de  woods;  but  ho  don't  understand  brousin',  for  ho  was 
broughten  up  'mong  gentlemen,  and  he  got  no  straw  for  bed, 
and  no  rug  to  keep  off  cold,  and  he  wants  to  be  took  back  agin. 
He  don't  like  ablution  in  cold  country.  He  rader  work  for  some- 
thin'  to  eat  in  winter,  dan  be  free  and  starve.  Dat  is  all  massa  gub- 
bernor  knows  'bout  ablution.  Help  mo  up  now,  Coosar,  boy,  dat  is 
a  good  feller,'^  and  he  gave  him  his  left  hand;  and  claspin'  it  fast, 
as  he  rose  to  his  feet,  he  knocked  the  dandy's  hat  off  with  the  right 
fist,  and  nearly  demolished  the  crown  of  it,  and  then  suddenly 
wheelin'  him  round,  give  him  two  or  three  good,  sound,  solid  kicks. 
*  "Dare,"  said  he,  lettin'  him  go,  "you  is  emancipated  —  you  is  free 
nigga  now ;  dat  is  ablution.  Clar  off,  you  pork  and  cabbage  nigga 
you.  Take  dat  for  do  onarthly  scream  you  woke  me  up  wid,  and 
frightened  de  lady  to  de  winder  da.  So  make  tracks  now,  and  go 
,  dine  wid  massa  gubbernor.     Yah  !  yah !  yah !" 

"  Do  you  feel  better  now  ?"  sais  I,  "  Kate,  I  told  you  I  had  no 
doubt,  when  you  diskivered  what  that  noise  was  you  would  laugh  at 
^  your  own  fears." 

"  Oh,  yes  I"  she  said,  "  but  I  must  say  I  was  awfully  scared  at 
first.  That  fellow  jist  got  what  he  wanted,  a  good  kickin'.  I  hope 
it  will  cure  him  of  makin'  such  unairthly  noises.  Those  free  Yankee 
niggers  arc  curses  to  the  country.  We  should  have  no  poor  rates  if 
it  wasn't  for  them." 

"  It  sarves  colonists  right,"  sais  I,  "  they  talk  of  emancipatin'  our 
slaves,  why  don't  they  emancipate  themselves." 

"  Oh,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Dam,  "  I  was  awfully  scared  by  the  nigger." 
;  "  Well,"  said  I,  "  if  you  was  frighteneu ,  you  weren't  half  so  much 
as  I  was  when  you  kinder  fainted  on  m}  shoulder  that  way.  Oh 
dear !  Goose  flashed  across  my  mind  then,  and  his  great  big  fists, 
and  I  felt  a  buzzin'  kind  of  noise  in  my  ears,  and  the  jurapin'  tooth- 
ache came,  and  I  saw  the  sparks  flyin'  out  of  my  eyes ;  if  he  had  a 
come  in,  he'd  a  chawed  me  right  up,  I  do  suppose,  afore  I'd  had  time 
to  explain.  What  a  pity  it  is,  he  shouldJ)e  so  jealous,  for  there  it) 
no  happiness  where  that  is." 

"I  know  it  to  my  sorrow,"  fche  said. 

''  Well,  then,  do  you  just  try  the  receipt  I  gave  yon  yesterday," 
said  I.  "  Put  him  on  the  defensive  at  once.  He  '  nows  how  little 
cause  you  iiave,  and  will  soon  begin  to  see  how  little  room  there  is  for 


.:i^ 


.■jiSisiL 


.V  'fj.  .<;ia 


for  his  hofls, 
5  I  gib  you 
nigga  now.' 
:  up  liis  tail, 
3  all  covered 
goes  to  de 
m.    Den  he 
,  for  he  was 
:aw  for   bed, 
k  back  agin, 
ork  for  some- 
11  massa  gub- 
ir,  boy,  dat  is 
aspin'  it  fast, 
ss'ith  the  right 
hen  suddenly 
d,  solid  kicks. 
—  you  is  free 
cabbage  nigga 
,0  up  wid,  and 
s  now,  and  go 

you  I  had  no 
would  laugh  at 

fully  scared  at 

'ckin'.     I  hope 

)se  free  Yankee 

LO  poor  rates  if 
mancipatin'  our 

by  the  nigger." 
't  half  so  much 
|that  way.  Oh 
great  big  fists, 


jumpm 


tooth- 


if  he  had  a 
)re  I'd  had  time 
[us,  for  there  lo 


lyou  yesterday, 
fnows  how  little 
loom  there  is  for 


OUR    COLONIES     AND     BAILORB.  |251  " 

his  fears  either.    I  told  him  so  this  mornin*.    *  Goose,'  said  I, '  don't 
be  foolish ;  I  see  you  are  a  little  jealous.' 

"  *I  shouldn't  wonder,*  said  he,  'if  I  was.' 
•  "  <  Well  I'll  tell  you  how  it  will  eventuate/  sais  I;  ^you've  got  as 
nice  a  little  wife  as  there  is  in  the  provinces,  and  there's  no  harm  in 
her ;  but  if  you  treat  her  suspiciously,  you  will  put  barm  into  her 
head  in  no  time,  and  she'll  get  jealous  of  you,  and  mind  what  I  tell 
you,  a  jealous  woman  is  the  deVil ;  and  besides,'  sais  I,  *  Goose,'  " 
and  I  gave  her  a  wink,  " '  when  you  consider  what  a  handsome  feller 
you  are,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed.'  >  -    ft     ^ 

" '  Well,'  said  he,  *I  shouldn't  wonder.  It  shan't  fiappen  agin, 
Mr.  Slick.' " 

"  Well  you  have  done  me  a  rael  kindness,"  she  said,  "  and  I  never 
shall  forget  you."  v/r 

''At  the  same  time,"  sais  I,  "it's  nateral  for  him  to  be  jealous 

too-" 
"How  so?"  said  she,  a  colourin'  up. 

"Any  man,"  sais  I,  "that  has  such  an  everlastin'  handsome 
wife—" 

"Phoo,"  sais  she,  risin'  up,  "don't  talk  nonsense,  I  must  go  and 
see  after  dinner,"  and  she  pinched  my  ear,  as  she  passed,  and  said, 
"  any  woman  that  marries  you  will  have  good  reason  to  be  jealous,  I 
know  J  for  I  never  saw  such  a  flirtin',  gossippin',  flatterin'  sort  of  a 
man  coquette  in  my  life.  I  believe  in  my  heart  it's  nothin'  but  the 
fear  of  Goose  that  kept  you  in  order  to-day." 

"I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  I. 

"Nor  I  either,"  said  she,  "for  there's  many  a  true  word  said  in 

jest."     •  .        ,     ,     ^     ;  ,t..-y,_  ;..:  =  ■■■;-  •■;-.-.«-7_^'-_. 


Ml( 


CHAPTER  XXV. 
>       OUR  COLONIES   AND  SAILORS. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  a  light  sea-breeze  sprung  up  and  cooled  the 
heated  air  of  the  narrow  valley  of  Petite  Riviere.  Lightin'  a  cigar, 
I  strolled  down  to  the  beach  to  await  the  return  of  Van  Dam. 

There  was  a  large  oak  tree  a  little  above  the  landwash,  and  under* 
neath  it  was  a  pile  of  deals  that  had  been  sawed  at  the  mill  near  the 
bridge  at  the  main  road.  Mountin'  this  for  a  seat,  I  sat  down  in, 
the  shade,  and  was  off  in  a  day-dream  about  Jordan  and  Sophy  in 
little  less  than  half  no  time. 

I  was  soon  so  deep  in  those  thoughts,  that  I  did  not  hear  the 


«  ^ifJlh. 


252 


OUR    COLONIES    AND     SAILORS 


i^m 


U\ 


t .  '■*» 


approach  of  a  sailor,  vfho  now  stood  before  me,  and  touchin'  his  hat, 
said : 

"  No  offence,  Sir,  I  hope,  for  I  wouldn't  oiFend  you  for  tho  world. 
Can  you  tell  me  the  best  road  to  take  to  St.  John,  New  Brunswick  ? 
I  have  had  the  misfortune  to  be  shipwrackcd,  and  want  to  get  back 
to  England.     St  John  is  one  of  *  our  colonies,'  aint  it  ?" 

"  Yes,"  sais  I,  for  it  would  have  been  a  long  lockrum  to  have  told 
him  who  I  was;  "  but  sit  down  here,  and  tell  me  about  your  ship- 
wrack."  Our  colonies.  Come,  that's  pretty  well.  Svery  English- 
man, from  a  member  of  parliament  that  ::.ddrcsses  you  by  letter,  Hali- 
fax, Nova  Scotia,  Upper  Canada,  and  a  governor  that  has  nothin'  to 
do  now  but  sign  his  name  to  papers,  and  talks  of  his  measures,  who 
has  no  measure  but  what  he  left  at  his  tailor's  in  London,  down  to 
Jack  Tar,  says  "  our  colonics/'  and  thinks  he  is  part  owner  of  these 
possessions,  and  looks  down  on  the  poor  outlandish  provincials  with 
a  condescendin'  air  of  superiority. 

Well,  the  colonists  look  upon  all  these  wiseacres  with  the  same 
feelins  of  pity  as  men  who  are  not  only  thick-headed  and  wrong- 
headed,  but  simple  people  who  don't  know  what  they  are  talking 
about.  Sjich  folks  with  such  feelins  ain't  likely  to  benefit  each  other 
much.  The  organization  is  wrong.  They  are  two  people,  but  not 
one.  It  shouldn't  he  England  and  her  colonies,  but  they  should  be 
integral  parts  of  one  great  whole — all  counties  of  Great  Britain. 
There  should  be  no  taxes  on  colonial  produce,  and  the  colonies 
should  not  be  allowed  to  tax  British  manufactures.  All  should  pass 
free,  as  from  one  town  to  another  in  England ;  the  whole  of  it  one 
vast  home-market,  from  Hong-Kong  to  Labrador. 

They  should  be  represented  in  parliament,  help  to  pass  English 
laws,  and  show  them  what  laws  they  wanted  themselves.  All  dis- 
tinctions should  be  blotted  out  for  ever.  It  should  be  no  more  a 
bar  to  a  man's  promotion  as  it  is  now  that  he  lived  beyond  seas,  than 
livin'  the  other  side  of  the  channel :  it  should  be  our  navy,  our  army, 
■our  nation.  That's  a  great  word ;  but  the  English  keep  it  to  them- 
selves, and  colonists  have  no  nationality :  they  are  like  our  free  nig- 
gers ;  they  are  emancipated,  but  they  hante  the  same  social  position 
as  the  whites.  The  fetters  are  off,  but  the  caste,  as  they  call  it  to 
India,  still  remains.  Colonists  are  the  pariahs  vf  the  Enijnre. 
They  have  no  place,  no  station,  no  rank.  Honours  don't  reach 
them  ;  coronations  are  blank  days  to  them  ',  no  brevets  go  across  the 
water  except  to  the  English  officers  who  are  on  foreign  service  in 
our  colonies.  No  knighthood  is  known  there — no  stars,  no  aristoc- 
racy, no  nobility.  They  are  a  mixed  race ;  they  have  no  blood ;  they 
are  cocktails. 

John  Bull,  you  are  a  fool;  you  haven't  even,  the  sense  of  the 
Onslow  blockhead  :  he  said  he  knew  he  was  a  fool,  but  his  brother 
was  a  plaguey  sight  bigger  one,  and  he  didn't  know  it.     Blot  the 


^^l^PWP 


OUE    COLONIES    AND    SAILORS.  ^3 

word  colonies  out  altogether,  incorporate  'era  all  with  England,  body 
and  breeches — one  people,  one  country,  one  Parliament.  Strike  off 
half  the  Irish  Brigade,  and  give  their  seats  to  colonists,  who,  if  they 
are  "  lllue-noses,"  aint  potato-headed,  at  any  rate. 

Ah,  Stanley  !  you  are  a  young  man,  but  they  say  you're  a  chip 
of  the  old  block  :  if  so,  you  are  just  the  boy  to  go  ahead.  Now 
hoist  that  flag,  make  a  party  to  rally  round  it,  and  go  in  up  to  the 
handle  on  that  ticket,  and  you'll  immortalize  yourself.  Colonists 
won't  stay  long  as  they  are  :  do  you  lead  the  way  in  the  right  direc- 
tion. But  all  this  is  their  look-out,  and  not  mine.  When  it's  too 
late,  they  will  find  out  their  mistake,  or  my  name  ain't  Sam  Slick, 

that's  all.  ^.'.--t, >^;*-'-■=:^--^•>  ,-•:  ^v-ivV,  -':*-■ /'a'-  ''::'^:'?" 

Jack  was  in  stature  below  the  Nova  Scotian  standard.  He  was  a 
short,  strong-built,  but  clumsy  man,  with  a  thorough  English  face- 
broad,  open  and  jolly,  but  not  over-wise.  He  had  on  a  pair  of  white 
canvas  trowsers  and  a  check  shirt,  and  carried  a  wallet  on  his  shoul- 
ders. Poor  fellow  !  sailor-like — 'the  hot  day,  and  the  hospitality  of 
the  people,  had  been  too  much  for  him,  and  he  had  been  imbibin'. 

"Tell  us  your  story,  Jack.     Sit  down  here." 

"Thank  you  kindly.  Sir;  I  hope  I  don't  intrude;  I  wouldn't 
offend  you  for  the  world.  I  come  from  a  place  called  Bristol,  Sir. 
Perhaps  you  may  have  heard  of  it.  Sir :  it's  in  England.  Well,  I 
was  one  of  the  crew  on  board  the  new  ship  '  Demerary,'  and  was 
hired  to  bring  her  down  the  river.  Well,  Sir,  what  does  they  do, 
but  cast  her  away,  afore  she  ever  got  down ;  instead  of  having  two 
little  tugs  to  her,  one  on  each  side,  they  puts  only  one  in  front  to 
tow  her ;  and  she  swung  round,  catched  right  across,  and  stuck  fast. 
She  was  ogged  in  the  middle,  ogged  in  the  bow,  ogged  in  the  starn, 
and  ogged  all  over.  It's  a  fact.  Sir,  I  assure  you ;  not  a  word  of  a 
lie  in  it.  It's  not  likely  you  ever  heard  of  her,  Sir,  livin'  out  in  '  our 
colonies;'  but  you  may  ax  any  one  that  do  know,  Sir,  and  they'll 
tell  you  it's  a  true  story,  that." 

"Do  you  smoke.  Jack?"  sais  I;  "because,  if  you  do,  smoke 
away.     I  like  to  see  a  man  enjoy  his  pipe." 

"  Thank  you  kindly.  Sir." 

While  he  was  lightin'  his  pipe,  I  couldn't  help  thinkin'  that  this 
country  and  its  farm-houses  resemble  each  other  amazinly  in  one  par- 
ticular. Every  sizeable  house  has  a  room  in  it  that  aint  used ;  not 
that  it's  a  bad  room,  its  often  as  good  as  any  other,  if  it  aint  the 
best.  It  aint  that  they  can't  furnish  it,  for  they  could  do  it  easily. 
You  can't  give  any  reason  for  it,  but  so  it  is.  Well,  this  is  the  lum- 
ber-room. Odds  and  ends  are  shoved  in  there;  things  that's  good 
enough,  but  aint  wanted ;  things  that's  broke,  and  sot  away  to  bo 
mended,  or  that's  broke  so  bad,  they'd  only  do  to  mend  others  with ; 
things  that  aint  fit  for  their  original  use,  but  will  some  day  answer 
22 


254 


OUR  COLONIES  AND  SAILORH. 


\ 


■i'\: 


capitally  for  somethin'  they  weren't  intended  for;  not  worth  much  as 
a  heap,  but  a  very  convenient  heap  of  lumber  to  have. 

Well,  now,  every  county  has  a  nice  little  harbour,  or  big  harbour, 
as  the  case  may  be ;  but  it  is  one  that  aint  used,  and  the  village 
there  don't  grow :  nobody  can  tell  why,  it's  as  good  as  others,  and 
better  than  ujany  that  have  large  thrivin'  towns ;  but  so  it  is.  And 
here  are  odds  and  ends  of  people  stowed  away.  There  don't  appear 
to  be  no  place  for  'em ;  but  they  will  answer,  if  opportunity  occurs. 
Critters  not  fitted  for  their  original  business,  but  that  will  do  capi- 
tally some  day  or  another  for  somethin'  else.  If  they  aint  fit  to  go 
alone,  they  are  just  what's  wanted  to  yoke  with  one  another.  Many 
of  them  people  you  don't  expect  to  find  in  such  a  place,  and  so  on. 
Jack  is  one  of  these  sort  of  folks :  he  is  an  able-bodied  seaman,  not 
fitted  for  the  fisheries,  but  will  do  famously  on  board  of  a  large 
ship.      ,-.  .•  •„  ,■  ..  -    -«      i     :'■'  •..'^.^. :■■'■■■  ^  i^--''-''i'!it 

,   "  Go  on.  Jack." 

-  "Well  then.  Sir,  I  was  sent  out  with  a  crew  to  Prince  Edward's 
Island,  to  fetch  home  a  new  ship  just  built  there,  loaded  with  deals. 
P'raps  you  may  have  heard  of  that  place.  Sir  ?  it's  one  of '  our  colo- 
nies.' Well,  Sir,  we  set  sail,  and  we  was  caught  in  an  awful  gale 
near  St.  Paul's  Island,  Sir,  on  the  north  end  of  Cape  Breton — I 
don't  suppose  you  ever  heard  of  that  place,  it's  another  of  *  our  colo- 
nies ' — and  we  was  wracked  there.  Two  men  was  drowned  a-gettin' 
on  shore — fact.  Sir,  I  assure  you  j  not  a  word  of  a  lie  in  it — ^and  the 
Captain  and  I  was  the  last  to  leave,  and  we  landed  safe.  I  only 
saved,  Sir,  what  I've  got  on,  and  what's  in  this  little  pack ;  and  all 
I  have  in  my  pocket  is  three  shillings.  No,  I  haven't,  I  tell  a  lie,  I 
have  only  two  shillings  and  sixpence ;  for  I  stood  treat  to  a  Dutch- 
man, just  as  I  left  the  tavern  there,  of  a  glass  apiece ;  and  what  do 
you  think  he  did,  Sir? — I'm  blamed  if  he  didn't  call  me  a  donkey. 
Sir !  Fact,  I  assure  you,  Sir ;  not  a  word  of  a  lie  in  it.  Oh,  no ! 
I'm  not  that  sort  of  a  man  at  all.  Sais  I,  '  Friend,'  handin'  him 
the  glass,  here's  luck !' 

" '  Well,'  sais  he,  '  donkey.' 

"  Sais  I,  '  Friend,  I  hope  there's  no  offence.  I  would'nt  offend 
you  for  the  world  j'  and  I  slipped  off  my  wallet,  and  laid  it  down, 
and  squared  off.  Sais  I,  *  P'raps  you'll  make  good  your  words.  If 
J  am  a  donkey,  I'm  an  English  one,  at  any  rate !' 

<'*Well,'  said  the  skipper  of  the  house,  'avast  haulin'  there! 
donkey,  is  Dutch  for  I  thank  you.' 

"  Oh  !'  sais  I,  *  I  ax  pardon ;  that  alters  the  case.  But  why  didn't 
he  speak  English  V 

"  So  I  took  up  ray  pack,  and  walked  on.  But  they  do  speak 
dreadful  lingo  in  'our  colonies/  don't  they.  Sir?  Did  you  ever  hear 
Garlic,  Sir !  Oh,  Sir !  when  I  was  wracked  at  Cape  North,  they  all 
spoke  Garlic !    I  must  tell  you  about  that.     I  hope  I  don't  intrude. 


-% 


■■:  .^ 


OUR  COLONIES  AND  SAILORS. 


1255 


rth  much  as 


landin'  him 


Sir,  and  make  too  free  ?  I  wouldn't  offond  you,  Sir,  for  the  world. 
"Well,  Sir,  when  Captain  and  me  got  ashore,  sais  I,  '  which  course 
shall  wo  steer.  Sir?' 

"  '  Any  course  you  like,'  said  he.    *  The  voyage  is  come  to  an  end.* 
"  *  Well  then,'  said  I,  *  I'll  steer  to  our  British  Council,  and  he'll 
take  care  of  mc,  and  find  me  a  passage  homo.' 

"  <  There  is  no  Cowncil  here,'  said  he.     '  You  are  in  one  of  '  our 
own  colonies'  now.'-   •  '  *  "i^ 

'< '  Well,'  sais  I,  '  will  the  authorities  do  it  ?' 
"  No,'  sais  he,  '  you  must  fish  for  yourself,'  and  he  gave  me  some 
money,  and  we  parted.  Oh,  Sir !"  said  Jack,  seriously,  "  if  you  go  to 
sea,  pray  the  Lord  to  cast  you  away  anywhere  it  do  seem  good  to  Him, 
so  long  as  it  taate  in  *  one  of  our  colonies.'  Everywhere  else  a  poor 
sailor  is  taken  care  off,  and  sent  home  (they  must  do  it  do  you  see, 
for  it's  English  law) ;  but  in  '  our  colonics/  they  say  you're  at  home 
already,  though  how  they  make  out  Cape  North  is  Bristol,  I  don't 
know.  I  was  wracked  once  at  Tangiers.  Well  the  Council  be- 
haved handsome  to  us.  He  was  a  fine  gentleman,  that.  Ho  paid 
our  bills  until  a  vessel  offered  for  England ;  but  that  is  a  Christian 
country. 

"Another  time  I  was  cast  away  at  Monty  Viddy.  We  went 
ashore  in  awful  weather,  and  the  Cowwcil  did  the  same  thing.  Oh, 
Sir,  steer  clear  of  '  our  colonics,'  give  them  a  wide  berth  whatever 
you  do,  as  they  are  the  worst  places  in  the. world  to  be  wracked  in. 
'  Well,  sais  I,  *  if  there  is  no  Council  to  look  out  for  I,  the  Lord 
will,  until  He  getteth  me  a  passage ;'  so  I  took  the  first  road  I  saw, 
and  follered  it,  for  I  knew,  in  course.  Sir,  a  road  must  lead  some- 
where. 

"  Well,  it  was  almost  dark  when  I  comes  to  a  house,  and  I  knocked 
at  the  door,  and  I  heard  a  ooman  say  someut,  but  I  couldn't  make 
it  out  J  so  I  lifts  the  latch,  and  walks  in.  Well,  there  was  seven 
women  there ;  six  of  them  had  spinnin' -wheels,  and  the  old  un  was 
cookingk  at  the  fire. 

" '  Mother,'  sais  I,  *  I  hope  I  don't  intrude.  I  wouldn't  offend 
you  for  the  world  j  but,  do  you  see,  I've  been  shipwracked  hard  by 
here.     Could  you  give  a  poor  sailor  a  mouthful  of  sumat  to  eat  ?' 

"  But  she  answered  me  in  Garlic,  so  I  was  told  arterwards,  for  I 
never  heard  it  afore.  It  warn't  French,  or  Portuguese,  or  Spanish, 
I  knew,  for  I  had  heard  them  folks  talk ;  but  it  was  Garlic.  Well, 
the  girls  all  stopt,  took  a  look  at  me,  and  then  they  began  to  jabber 
away  in  Garlic  too.  Well,  the  old  ooman  put  a  chair  for  me,  and 
made  signs  for  me  to  take  off  my  pack,  and  then  sho  took  a  great 
long  iron  bar,  and  lifted  off  the  cover  of  a  bake-pan  that  had  four  or 
five  fowls  in  it,  and  pufc  in  a  lump  of  butter  as  big  as  my  fists,  and 
shut  it  up  again,  and  covered  it  all  over  with  live  coals.  Oh  I  the 
smell  made  me  very  hungry.     Says  I,  '  Mother,  that  smells  nice.' 


■•-*.. 


256 


OUR     COLONIES     AND     SAILORS. 


But  she  larfed,  and  sliook  her  head.  Well,  I  turned  to  the  galls, 
sais  I,  *  Can't  any  of  you  speak  English  ?'  But  they  all  answered 
at  onct  in  Garlic,  and  what  they  said  I  couldn't  tell.  So  I  gets  up, 
and  I  does  this.  I  puts  up  my  right  hand  this  way,  as  if  I  was 
holdin'  of  a  bottle  by  the  neck,  and  holds  up  the  other  as  if  it  had 
a  glass  in  it,  and  then  pretended  to  pour  out  slow,  put  it  up  to  my 
mouth,  tossed  it  off,  aud  smacked  my  lips.  Says  I,  'Mother,  that's 
English  for  a  glass  of  rum.'  Oh  !  how  they  all  larfed  !  They  all 
knew  what  I  meant,  in  course,  and  the  old  ooman  took  the  hint, 
went  to  a  closet,  brought  out  a  jug  bottle,  and  a  glass,  and  sat  it 
down.     So  I  fills  it,  and  offers  it  to  her.     '^-  :  '.  '■■  *W"lt''-  -^^   ' 

" '  After  you,  Marm,'  sais  I,  makin'  a  bow.  '  I  couldn't  think 
of  takin'  it  first.' 

"  Well,  she  took  it  off,  as  if  she  knowd  it  better  than  she  did 
English ;  and  then  I  filled  one,  and  sais  : 

"'I  thank  you  kindly,  Marm;  and  if  ever  you  are  cast  away,  I 
hope  it  won't  be  in  one  of  our  colonies,  where  there  is  no  British 
Council.  My  sarvice  to  you,'  and  I  made  a  scrape  of  my  hind  leg, 
and  tossed  off  the  whisky.  Capital  stuff  it  is  too,  when  you're  ship- 
wracked,  and  drenched,  and  cold.      ■.  ^'f"^"'- 

''  Well,  as  I  stood  by  the  chimney,  the  whisky  within  and  the  fire 
without  fetched  the  steam  out  of  my  wet  clothes  like  a  cloud.  'Look 
here,  galls,'  says  I,  a-pointin'  to  it,  '  how  that  gets  up  the  steam.' 
And  they  larfed  like  anythin'.  They'd  soon  lam  English  if  a  feller 
had  time  to  teach  them,  don't  you  think  so,  Sir?"  and  he  haw-hawed 
as  merrily  as  if  his  troubles  were  as  light  as  his  pack. 

"  Just  then.  Sir,  in  comes  a  critter  that  was  dressed  like  a  man 
about  the  upper  part  of  its  body  and  arms,  and  like  a  woman  about 
its  lower  half,  havin'  a  jacket  above  and  a  short  petticoat  below:  But 
it  had  a  beard  and  a  pair  of  yaller  hairy  legs,  it  was  rigged  like  a 
hemophrodite  brig,  but  it  called  itself  '  Aer,'  it  spoke  a  little  broken 
Eoglish,  but  understood  all  I  said,  and  it  put  it  into  Garlic  for  them, 
and  it  stopped  their  laughin',  for  they  said  '  Oh  !  oh  !  oh  !'  and  the 
old  oonan  threw  up  both  hands,  and  the  galls  looked  as  if  it  would 
liot  take  much  to  make  'em  take  pity  on  me  and  lam  me  Garlic.  I 
could  see  by  the  way  the  strange  critter  went  about  the  house  and 
ordered  things,  that  he  was  the  old  oonan's  fancy  man.  Trowsers 
was  scarce  there,  I  suppose,  and  that's  the  reason  he  wore  a  petti- 
coat, seein'  that  there  are  no  tailors  in  those  woods. 

"  Well,  the  spinnin'-wheels  was  set  a  one  side,  and  the  table  set 
out,  and  we  had  a  royal  meal,  and  arterwards  I  made  a  motion  like 
dancin',  and  the  old  boy  gets  out  a  fiddle,  and  we  had  a  merry  night 
of  it. 

"Well,  at  last  clothes  was  brought  out,  and  four  of  the  galls 
turned  in  in  one  corner  of  the  room.  The  other  two  slept  with  the 
old  ooman,  in  a  little  berth  off,  and  the  master  mounted  guard  over 


mmmm^m 


OUR    OOLONIKS     AND     SAILORS. 


2W 


the  galls, 
answered 
[  gets  up, 
i  if  I  was 

if  it  had 
up  to  my 
icr,  that's 

They  all 

the  hint, 

md  sat  it 

In't  think 

Q  she  did 

3t  away,  I 
ao  British 
r  hind  leg, 
Du're  ship- 

nd  the  fire 
id.  '  Look 
ho  steam/ 
I  if  a  feller 
law-hawed 

ike  a  man 
man  about 
low:    But 
;ed  like  a 
tie  broken 
!  for  them, 
!'  and  the 
f  it  would 
Grarlic.     I 
louse  and 
Trowsers 
re  a  petti- 
table  set 
otion  like 
jrry  night 

the  galls 
;  with  the 
■uard  over 


me,  while  I  took  a  stretch  for  it  on  the  hearth.  Fact,  I  assure  you, 
Sir,  not  a  word  of  a  lie  in  it.  Oh,  no !  I'm  not  that  sort  of  a  man 
at  all,  Sir.  Well,  in  the  mornin'  four  of  the  galls  mounted  their 
wheels  on  their  shoulders,  and  I  found  from  master's  broken  English 
I  was  to  go  with  them ;  so  I  slung  my  puck  on,  and  takes  up  my 
hat,  and  I  puts  my  hand  in  my  pocket  and  pulls  out  some  silver. 
<  Thank  you  kindly,  Sir,'  said  I,  '  but  I  can  afford  to  pay  my  way,' 
and  holdin'  out  my  opci  hand,  says  I,  '  will  you  just  take  whatever 
your  charge  is.  Sir ?"    .    v7 >>"*;;    ^':  ..^••■/iv 

"  Well,  he  got  in  a  dreadful  passion.  He  clapt  both  his  hands 
behind  him,  cocked  out  his  chin,  and  let  go  Garlic  like  a  steam- 
engine  ;  and  his  wife  got  red  in  the  face,  and  scolded  like  any  thin'. 
'Na-ah,  na-ah,  na-ah,'  says  they. 

"Well,  I  puts  the  silver  back.  Sais  I,  'I  beg  your  pardon,  I 
didn't  mean  to  intrude,  I  wouldn't  offend  you  for  the  world.'  And 
I  bowed  and  scraped,  and  then  held  out  my  empty  fin,  and  shook 
hands  with  them  both ;  and  the  old  ooman  spoke  some  kind  words  I 
know,  for  though  it  was  Garlic  it  sounded  soft,  as  much  as  to  say, 
'  Safe  homo  to  you,  remember  me  to  your  mother.' 

"  Well,  we  took  up  marchin'  order — the  galls  first  in  course,  then 
]\Iorphroditc  Brig,  then  me ;  but  as  I  got  to  the  door,  I  turned  and 
made  the  motion  of  the  bottle  to  the  old  ooman,  and  she  called  back 
her  husDund  and  brought  it  out,  and  he  filled  a  glass,  made  a  speech, 
and  down  with  it.  Then  he  poured  out  one  for  me,  and  I  just  dropt 
one  knee  down,  and  handed  it  to  the  old  lady.  '  Couldn't  think  of 
it,  Marm,'  snid  I,  '  afore  you,'  and  she  tossed  it  off  without  winkin', 
and  looked  racl  pleased.  And  then  my  turn  came,  and  after  a  volley 
of  thanks,  down  it  went,  when  he  filled  it  again. 

"  Well,  thinks  I,  I  ain't  proud,  and  though  you  wouldn't  touch 
my  silver,  I  won't  go  get  mad.  I'll  just  set  you  a  better  example, 
and  that  drop  followed  the  other,  and  I  felt  good.  Sais  I,  '  They 
ought  to  make  you  British  CouncW  here,  for  you're  the  only  one  can 
talk  English,  pays  all  the  bill,  and  shows  the  road  home.  If  I  see 
the  Governor,  I'll  make  so  bold  as  t9  tell  him  so.' 

"  Well,  his  wife  wanted  to  know  what  pleased  him  so  much,  and 
he  told  her ;  and  we  shook  hands  again,  and  parted.  When  we  got 
to  the  gate,  Mophrodite  Brig  came  to  an  anchor,  pointed  up  the  road, 
and  then  pointed  off  to  the  right,  as  if  directin'  them ;  and  me,  and 
the  four  galls,  and  four  spinnin'-wheels,  took  a  fresh  departure,  and 
steered  eastward.  Very  kind  people,  them;  I  shall  never  forget 
them,  though  they  were  Garlic.  Well,  the  galls  had  all  the  talk  to 
themselves,  and  it  was  dull  music.  I  tried  'em  all,  but  it  was  no  go ; 
it  was  all  Garlic.  Well,  in  course  I  convoyed  the  last  of  the  fleet, 
though  she  could  sail  as  fast  as  any  of  'em,  and  she  began  to  larn 
English  fast;  she  only  wanted  a  little  trainin'. 

Let  me  carry  your  wheel  for  you,  dear,'  sais  I,  and  I  held  out 
22* 


« ( 


,*.;«, 
*- 


,      OUR    COLONIES    AND    8AIL011S., 

my  hands  for  it.  'Pon  my  word,  she  understood  every  word  of  that, 
and  gave  mo  the  wheel  to  sling  over  my  shoulder;  then  she  went  up 
to  the  others,  and  pointed  to  me  and  the  wheel,  and  they  stopt,  put 
down  their  wheels,  and  nearly  killed  themselves  a  laughin'. 

*'  Well,  arter  awhile  I  see  the  galls  ready  for  makiu'  sail  again, 
and  I  just  passed  my  right  arm  round  the  waist  of  my  little  Garlic 
friend,  and  lifted  her  up  off  the  ground,  and  marched  on.  She 
laughed,  and  struggled,  and  kicked  out  like  a  haddock  that  is  just 
hooked ;  and  the  other  galls  enjoyed  it  first-rate. 

"  Arter  awhile  I  stopt,  put  out  my  lips,  and  bent  my  head  towards 
her,  and  told  her  that  was  English  for  a  kiss ;  but  she  put  up  her 
hands  to  push  my  head  back ;  she  didn't  onderstand  it. 

"  Well,  arter  a  little  while  I  stopped  and  tried  it  again.  It  seemed 
then  as  if  she  had  some  idea  what  I  meant,  but  warn't  sure ;  but  the 
third  time  she  held  still,  and  I  gave  her  an  English  kiss,  and  she 
gave  me  one  in  Garlic  in  return,  and  I  sot  her  down.  Oh !  that 
gall  was  very  quick  at  larnin',  and  .she  looked  as  if  it  was  the  same 
in  bo^h  languages,  only  it  sounded  different  in  Garlic. 

"  We?l^  Sir,  it  was  pretty  much  the  same  travellin'  next  day,  only 
I  hadn't  the  galls  no  longer,  and  here  and  there  there  was  a  little 
more  English.  At  last  I  came  to  the  great  Bras  d'Or  Lake,  and 
got^  a  cast  in  a  boat  to  the  other  side ;  and,  what  do  you  think  ?  — 
upon  my  honour  it's  a  fact,  Sir  —  not  a  word  of  a  lie  in  it  —  the 
people  were  all  French!  thick  as  hops.  A  great  big  chapel,  with  a 
cross  on  it  as  large  as  the  foretopsail-yard  of  a  seventy-four.  The 
first  fellow  I  met  had  shoes  on  like  a  leather  mitten,  a  droU-lookin* 
little  man  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth. 

"  *  Hullo !  shipmate/  says  I,  '  where  does  the  British  Council 
live?' 

"  He  shook  his  head  and  walked  on,  and  said  nothin'. 

*^'You  miserable,  yaller-skinncd  Frenoh  rascal!'  said  I,  'if  you 
don't  give  me  a  civil  answer  I'll  horse  you  up  over  the  first  man's 
back  I  meet,  and  flog  you  like  a  school-boy !  —  for  it  would  take  six 
such  fellers  as  you  to  make  a  maji ! ' 

"He  understood  all  I  said;  for  he  stopped  and  swore  broken 
English  at  me,  and  called  me  everythin'  you  can  think.  Well,  I 
gave  chase  out  of  fun ;  and  the  way  he  ran  to  the  house,  and  yelped 
like  a  dog  that  is  hit  with  a  stone,  was  as  good  as  a  play !  Well,  I 
roared  out  a-larfin',  and  turned  and  got  into  the  road  again.  Well,  I 
asked  two  or  three,  and  they  spoke  very  civil,  but  very  broken,  and 
said  they  didn't  know  what  I  meant.  At  last,  I  met  a  man  travel- 
lin'  in  a  nice  pha;-a-ton,  and  axed  him. 

"  '  Oh  ! '  said  he,  '  there  is  no  Consul  here.  This  is  a  British 
province.' 

"'British  ! '  says  I;  'then  what  the  devil  are  these  French  fe!- 


OUR    00L0NIE8    ANJ>    BAILORS. 


260 


tish   Counoil 


[vore  broken 


lows  doin'  hero,  if  it's  ono  of  our  colonies?    Why  don't  thoy  oloor 

them  out  ? ' 

" '  They  aro  descended  from  thoso  who  were  hero  when  wo  con- 
quered it,'  says  ho;  'they're  IJritisii  Bubjects.' 

"If  they  are,'  said  I,  'they  ought  to  bo  made  to  speak  English. 
And  if  I  might  bo  so  bold,  Sir  —  I  wouldn't  oH'cnd  you  for  the 
world — but  who  uro  them  outlandibh  people  up  at  Capo  ^forth  'i  I'm 
blowed  if  it  aint  worth  while  to  call  this  ono  ui  urir  culonics,  when 
you're  the  only'nmu  in  three  days  journey  can  speak  good  English  I' 

"'Why,'  says  he,  'those  people  speak  Garlic,  and  aro  Iligh- 
landers.' 

"  '  Highlanders  1  Oh  yes  I  to  bo  sure,'  says  I,  '  I  ought  to  havo 
known  that.  iJut  I  never  know  that  they  didn't  speak  English,  and 
that  t'loir  language  was  Garlic.  They  aro  the  same  as  wo  aro  — 
like  h6  two  peas  —  only  they  don't  act  alike,  dress  alike,  talk  alike, 
or  look  alike.  I  thought  tho'  that  little  spinnin'-wheel  kissed  just 
like  one  of  our  English  galls  do  1 ' 

"'Jack,'  says  ho,  'you're  a  merry  fellow.  Nobody  would  think 
you  had  only  just  escaped  with  your  life  from  a  shipwreck  !  Here's 
a  dollar  for  you.  Work  your  way  on  board  of  some  of  thoso  vessels 
at  St.  Peter's  to  Halifax,  and  the  merchants  there  will  tell  you  what 
to  do.     Good-bye  ! ' 

"  ^  Thiink  you  kindly.  Sir,'  said  I.  '  But  I  hope  I'll  never  bo  cast 
away  lo  one  of  our  colonics  agin,  where  ther^  is  no  British  Cowncil, 
and  nothing  but  Garlic  and  French.'  •'  . 

"  Well,  Sir,  the  first  vessel  I  saw  was  '  Captain  Parks,'  of  this 
place,  and  I  arrived  here  last  night,  and  here  it's  all  Dutch." 

There  was  no  mistakiu'  that  man  for  uu.  English  sailor — jolly, 
thoughtless,  and  brave.  But  I  couldn't  help  thinkin'  how  flatterin' 
it  must  be  to  colonists,  when  such  a  fuller  as  that  calls  their  country 
"  ourSf"  as  if  ho  was  one  of  the  joint  owners  1  And  yet  ho  has  as 
much  right  to  talk  so,  as  any  member  of  Parliament  has  who  blathers 
in  the  House  of  Commons  about  them,  as  if  he  had  made  them  his 
study  for  years,  and  yet  never  saw  them.  There's  many  a  man 
boasts  of  bavin'  known  the  Duke,  who  only  saw  him  in  the  street ; 
and  many  a  man  knows  all  about  the  colonies,  who  has  only  seen 
them  on  a  map.  Like  a  Colonial  Secretary,  who  ordered  all  Ameri- 
can prisoners  to  bo  kept  for  safety  at  the  fortress  of  Louisburg,  which 
had  been  blown  up  and  destroyed  fifty  years  before  by  English  engi- 
neers at  the  national  expense. 

The  British  Government  always  runs  to  extremes  —  it  eithei 
gov(3rns  too  much  or  too  little,  holds  too  tight  a  rein  or  takes  the 
bridle  off  altogether.  Tho  true  sup(3rintcndin'  duty  is  like  that  of 
the  tame  eliphant.  When  I  was  to  Calcutta,  I  went  up  to  Meerat 
with  a  British  officer  j  and  when  we  came  to  a  haltin'-station,  what 
do  you  think  we  saw  ?     An  eliphant  in  charge  of  the  children.     Tho 


260 


OUR    COLONIES    A  III)    SAILORSJ 


family  was  at  work  in  the  fields  at  some  distance,  and  this  great 
monstrous  matron  was  left  to  look  after  their  nursery.  There  was 
certain  bounds  that  the  youngsters  was  not  to  pass.  Inside  of  the 
limits,  they  might  amuse  themselves  as  they  liked,  and  were  not 
interfered  with.  If  any  of  them  broke  limits,  the  eliphant  took  'em 
up  with  its  trunk  and  sot  'em  back ;  and  if  they  played  tricks  and 
tried  to  go  beyond  the  mark  often,  they  got  a  shake  to  remind  'em 
it  warn't  safe  to  attempt  it. 

England  might  take  an  excellent  lesson  from  the  eliphant  in 
rpanagin'  her  refractory  children.  She  is  big  enough  and  strong 
enough  to  do  it,  and  ugly  enough  to  frighten  'em  without  hurtin' 
them. 

"  I  hope  I  don't  intrude,  Sir,"  said  Jack,  puttin'  on  his  pack  and 
preparin'  for  a  march.     "Which  way  did  you  say  I  must  steer?" 

"  To  Annopolis,"  said  I,  "  where  there  is  a  steamer  in  which  you 
can  work  your  way  to  St.  John.  From  that  there  are  constant  oppor- 
tunities for  England,  and  sailors  are  in  great  request.  But  you 
must  inquire  your  road,  or  you  may  have  to  sleep  out  all  night  in 
the  woods.  .  • 

"Oh,  Sir!"  sais  he,  "this  time  of  the  year,  to  a  man  like  ihiB, 
who  has  paced  the  deck  at  night  in  all  weathers,  that's  no  great 
hardship." 

r    "  Here's  somethin'  to  help  you  on  the  way."  ■     "- 

:-;'  "Thank  you  kindly.  Sir." 

■  "But  stop,"  sais  I,  "I  am  waitin'  for  a  friend  here  who  lives  in 
that  house  yonder.  Hold  on  until  he  comes,  and  he  will  give  you 
your  supper  and  a  night's  lodgiu'.  It's  too  late  to  take  the  road 
to-night."  .  ■  ':  ' 

"  Thank  you.  Sir,"  said  he,  resumin'  his  seat.    "  Oh,  Sir !  a  man 
who  goes  to  all  parts  of  the  world  seeth  strange  things  now  and  agin, 
don't  he  ?     Was  you  ever  in  New  South  Wales,  Sir  ?" 
:,  "No,  never." 

"Well,  perhaps  you've  heard  tell  of  it.  It's  another  of  ^our 
colonics.'  I  have  been  there  in  a  man  of  war ;  though,  mind  you. 
Sir,  it  warn't  judges  sent  nie  there.  I'm  not  that  sort  of  a  man  at 
all.  Perhaps  you've  heard  wc  send  our  convicts  to  oUr  ^colony 
there ;"  and  it's  a  bouuty  on  breakin'  the  law,  Sir,  for  they  are  better 
off  there  than  at  home  —  fact,  I  tissure  you  —  I  have  seen  it  myself. 
A  block.  Sir,  at  one  end  of  the  fcre-yard-arm,  with  a  hemp  neckcloth 
and  a  clear  run  aft,  Sir,  would  save  a  deal  of  trouble.  No,  Sir,  I 
didn't  go  out  that  way,  but  in  Her  Majesty's  ship  the  'Billyruffian' 
(Bellerophon).  She  was  christened  Billy,  Sir,  after  King  William — 
(xod  bless  him  I  —  who  was  a  sailor  to  the  back-bone  like  me,  and  a 
ruffian  to  frighten  the  Frenchmen  and  Yankees." 
'^:(    "  Easy  scared  the  Yankees,  aint  they  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Well,  Sir,  they  fight  well,  but  they  arc  like  the  Irish." 


mmmm 


mmmmm 


OUR  COLONIES  AND  SAILOES. 


261 


this  great 
rhere  was 
ide  of  the 
were  not 
t  took  'em 
;ricks  and 
;miud  'em 

liphant  in 
.nd  strong 
>ut  hurtin' 

3  pack  and 
steer?" 
which  you 
tant  oppor- 
But  you 
1  night  in 

in  like  me, 
s  no  great 


0  lives  in 
give  you 
the  road 


Sir !  a  man 
and  agin, 


of  'our 
mind  you, 
a  man  at 
ir  'colony 
are  better 
it  myself, 
neckcloth 
No,  Sir,  I 
illyruffian' 
iVilliam — 
me,  and  a 


"How  is  that?"  sais  Ij  for  there  is  nothin'  like  hearin'  what 
folks  have  to  say.  It's  only  your  friends  and  your  enemies  that 
tell  you  of  your  faults.  ''"i-;  '"■'  '■     ■  "   ^'.:p-^^''r  •-'';'; 

''  Well,  Sir,  if  three  Irishmen  get  hold  of  you  they  fight  like 
devils,  one  to  box  you,  and  two  to  see  fair  play,  by  joinin'  him  and 
knockin'  you  down.  And  when  the  Yankees  have  a  ship  of  heavier 
metal,  and  more  guns  than  you,  there's  no  denyin'  of  it,  they  do 
fight  like  men." 

I  drew  a  long  pufi^,  took  out  my  cigar,  and  spit  out  on  the  grass. 
Thinks  I,  you're  a  bigger  fool  than  I  took  you  to  be ;  but  arter  all 
you  aint  a  bit  bigger  one  than  your  countrymen  generally  are. 

"  You  see.  Sir,  the  *  Constitution'  frigate  —  p'raps  you  may  have 
heard  of  her  ?     Well,  she  was  a  sixty-four  in  disguise  of  a  frigate. 
She  was  like  a  razee.  Sir.     P'raps  you  may  have  heard  of  a  razee, 
though  I  don't  suppose,  living  in  'our  colonics'  you  ever  see  one. 
It's  a  seventy-four  cut  down,  Sir,  as  if  a  razor  cut  off  the  upper  dc6k. 
They  are  powerful  vessels,  Sir,  and  sail  like  the  wind.     Our  admirals 
'  do  nothin'.  Sir,  but  build  vessels,  and  then  alter  them.     Some  they 
cuts  in  two  and  lengthens,  others  they  razee,  and  then  shifts  tho 
masts,  first  here,  and  then  there,  alter  the  rig,  and  so  on.     It  amuses 
the  old  gentlemen,  and  costs  nothin',  for  there  is  always  plenty  of 
workmen  in  the  dockyards.     Some  they  sell  for  whalers,  becauso 
their  bulwarks  is  too  thick  j  others  because  their  sterns  are  too  round, 
and  some  because  they  are  too  sharp ;  and  some  they  breaks  up  to 
see  how  much  longer  they  will  last,  but  it's  all  good  for  trade. 
Well,  Sir,  the  'Constitution'  was  like  a  razee.     The  'Gerry-arr' 
frigate  was  no  match  for  her.     But  stop  a  bit,  if  the  '  Billy-ruffian' 
had  a  fallen  in  with  her,  she'd  a  handled  her  pretty,  I  can  tell  you." 
"But  you  was  talkin'  of  your  convicts  and  colonies,"  sais  I. 
"  Oh  yes,  Sir,"  ^iiid  he ;  "  there's  a  place  out  there  called  Swan 
River,  Sir;  p'raps  you've  heard  of  it?     There  is  good  anchorage 
ground  among  the  islands  there.     Well,  Sir,  the  captain  gave  us 
leave  to  have  a  run  ashore,  and  we  had  the  greatest  fun  you  ever 
see.  Sir.     We  started  a  kangeroo;  p'raps  you've  heard  of  a  kan- 
geroo}*     It's  a  razeed  giraffe.  Sir.     A  giraffe  is  all  fore-legs,  neck, 
and  h6ad,  and  has  hardly  any  hind-legs  j  it  is  as  steep  as  the  roof 
of  a  house,  you  can't  ride  it  at  all,  you  slip  right  off  over  the  tail. 
Well,  Sir,  the  Lords  of  the  Admiralty  in  old  times  there,  afore  the 
flood,  razeed  them,  and  invented  the  kangeroos.     They  are  all  hind- 
legs,  and  scarcely  any  fore  ones  at  all ;  you  can't  ride  them  either^ 
the  saddle  slips  right  over  their  heads.     That's  just  the  way  they 
botches  our  ships.  Sir,  running  from  one  extreme  to  the  other 
Well,  Sir,  we  started  a  kangeroo,  and  gave  chase  to  it,  overhauled 
it,  and  captured  it,  after  a  desperate  struggle.     They  have  a  tail  like 
a  marlin'-spike,  Sir,  only  its  blunt  at  the  end,  and  the  way  they 
strike  with  that  is  like  a  flail.     I  got  a  blow  from  it,  Sir,  savin* 


& 


ml 


EM- 


ii^ 


MIHVPiPHMqil 


•^^m-- 


262 


OUR    COLONIES    AND    SAILORS. 


your  presence,  that  nearly  knocked  my  dead-lights  in.  When  we 
first  seed  it,  Sir,  it  was  sittin'  on  a  livin'  three-legged  stool,  fact,  Sir, 
I  assure  you,  not  a  word  of  a  lie  in  it.  Sir,  I  am  not  that  sort  of  a 
man  at  all,  oh  no  !  Sir.  It  sat  up  on  its  hind-legs,  and  clapped  out 
its  tail  stiff  against  the  ground,  and  that  made  a  nateral  stool,  and 
then  it  took  its  young  ones  on  its  knees  and  kissed  them,  and  opened 
a  bag  it  had  under  its  belly,  like  an  India-rubber  travelliu'-bag,  and 
stowed  them  careful  away,  and  then  off  as  hard  as  it  could  jump. 
For  its  size,  perhaps,  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  can  jump  with  it, 
except  it's  a  Portugese  flea.  Well,  we  overhauled  it,  Sir,  for  them 
three  passengers  stowed  away  in  the  hold  was  too  much  for  it. 

" '  Well,'  sais  Bill  Hodgens,  who  was  full  of  the  devil.  Sir,  savin* 
your  presence  !  says  Bill,  *  boys,  let's  give  it  a  chance  for  its  life.' 

"  Well,  wo  looked  round,  and  there  was  a  black  swan  in  the  river 
—  black  as  ink.  Sir ;  fact,  I  assure  you ;  not  a  word  of  a  lie  in  it. 
I  never  see  one  before  or  since.  Well,  Sir,  we  off  clothes,  and  into 
the  water  arter  it  j  and  at  last,  we  tired  it  out,  and  caught  it." 

♦'  You  ought  to  have  taken  that  black  nigger  swan  to  England,'' 
sais  I,  '<  to  preach  up  the  'mancipation  of  their  white  brother  swans, 
that  are  held  in  slavery  there." 

"  What's  that  ?  "  said  he.     « I  don't  understand."  ■  -  •  ^ 

"Nothin',"  saisl.     "Goon."  '      "  ' 

"Well,  Sir,  what  do  you  think  we  did?  Says  Bill  Hodgens, 
*  Let's  belay  the  swan  on  to  the  kangaroo,  with  a  slack  of  a  fathom 
of  rope,  and  let  them  run  for  it.' 

"  No  sooner  said  than  done.  Sir.  Away  went  the  kangaroo,  with 
the  swan  a  towin'  of  it,  like  a  tug-steamer.  When  they  went  down 
hill,  over  went  kangaroo,  heels  over  head,  ever  so  often ;  its  fore 
legs  was  too  short.  On  the  plain,  it  went  like  the  wind ;  and  up-hill 
the  swan  pulled  like  an  engine  j  and  that  was  the  last  that  ^ve  saw 
of  them.  Fact,  I  assure  you.  Sir;  not  a  word  of  a  lie  in  it.  Oh! 
no,  Sir  j  I'm  not  that  sort  of  a  man  at  all.  Sir." 

"Here's  the  boat,"  I  said;  and  I  rose  up,  and  went  to  the 
beach. 

"Throw  us  the  painter.  Captain,"  said  Jack;  and  as  soon  as  he 
caught  it,  he  said,  "  Hold  on.  Sir;"  and  pullin'  it  over  his  shouldor, 
he  drew  the  boat  up  on  the  beach.  "  Where  shall  I  belay  it,  Sir?  " 
said  he. 

"  Fasten  this  killock  to  it,"  which  he  threw  to  him  with  as  much 
ease  as  a  biscuit,  "  and  stick  it  in  the  sand,"  said  my  friend. 

"How  are  you.  Goose?"  said  I.  "I  have  been  waitin'  here 
some  time  for  you." 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  Sir,"  said  Jack ;  "  but  were  you  ever  in  Ba- 
tavia  ?  " 

" No;"  said  Goose,  lookin' puzzled.       .  -     •  ,'V' 


A   PICNIC    AT    LA    HAIVE 


When  we 
il,  fact,  Sir, 
it  sort  of  a 
slapped  out 
,1  stool,  and 
and  opened 
iu'-bag,  and 
ould  jump, 
imp  with  it, 
ir,  for  them 
for  it. 

,  Sir,  savin' 
r  its  life.' 
in  the  river 
f  a  lie  in  it. 
les,  and  into 
ht  it." 
0  England,'' 
other  swans, 


"  Because,  hearin'  your  name  Goose,  reminds  me  the  Dutch  Go- 
vernor's name  was  Goose  Van  Dam." 

"I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Goose. 

"  Fact,  I  assure  you,  Sir.  I  saw  him  come  on  board  our  ship,  the 
'  Billyruffian.'  His  Mightiness  Goose  Van  Dam  —  p'raps  you've 
heard  of  him — he  was  a  Dutchman,  Sir;  though  why  they  call  thenl 
Dutchmen,  when  they  come  from  Holland,  I  don't  know." 

This  was  one  of  those  remarkable  coincidences  in  life,  that  some- 
times happen ;  which,  if  inserted  in  a  book,  would  be  said  to  be  too 
improbable  to  believe.     He  was  rewarded  by  a  hearty  welcome. 

"  Jack,  was  there  a  Oounsnl  there  ?  "  said  I. 

"Indeed,  there  was.  Sir.  I'd  a  thousand  times  rather  be  ship- 
wrecked there,  than  out  here  in  one  of  '  Our  Colonies.'  "  ;  \ .  '■,  |,'»'*^ 


CHAPTEE  XXVI.        -         .  vss^i^^r 

A   PICNIC   AT   LA   IlAlY^.^..^'h'-.'^^^'':^ffi^i 


ill  Hodgens, 
of  a  fathom 

ingaroo,  with 
y  went  down 
ten ;  its  fore 
;  and  up-hill 
that  ^78  saw 
in  it.     Oh  I 

went  to  the 

soon  as  he 
his  shoulder, 
slay  it,  Sir?" 

vith  as  much 
•lend, 
waitin'  here 

ever  in  Ba- 


Early  the  followin'  raornin'  I  was  summoned  by  the  pilot  to  go 
on  board,  as  the  wind  was  favourable  for  La  Haive.  Almost  the 
first  person  I  saw  was  poor  Jack.  Rocollectiu'  that  the  nearest  road 
to  Annapolis  was  from  that  place,  aiid  not  from  Petite  Riviere,  I 
gave  him  a  cast  there  on  board  the  '  Black  Hawk,'  and  this  saved 
him  a  walk  of  seven  or  eight  miles. 

La  Haive  is  one  of  tlie  most  beautiful  rivers  in  this  country, 
extendin'  from  the  Atlantic  nearly  across  the  province  into  the 
county  of  Annapolis,  inhabited  on  either  side  by  a  hardy  and  thriviii' 
population.  At  its  entrance  are  several  extensive  and  valuable 
islands,  formin'  admirable  shelters  for  vessels  of  tie  largest  class. 
Tradition  says  tbat  in  old  times  they  were  the  resort  of  pirates,  and 
dreamers  have  still  visions  of  buried  treasures  and  hidden  caskets  of 
Spanish  gold. 

The  real  riches,  however,  are  in  the  deep,  and  the  fisheries  yield 
them  with  less  labour  and  risk.  As  we  rounded  the  point  that 
opens  a  view  of  the  river,  I  was  glad  to  observe  a  very  large  collec- 
tion of  persons  of  both  sexes  in  holiday  attire,  assembled  apparently 
for  some  festive  occasion.  This  part  of  the  harbour  had  evidently 
been  selected  for  the  convenience  of  those  who  dwelt  on  the  adjacent 
shore  as  well  as  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  the  green  in  front  of 
the  small  cluster  of  houses  was  covered  with  numerous  little  family 
groups. 


•K 


■p 


264 


A    PICNIC    AT    LA    HAIVE. 


(  I 


il,    iii,:,a      .S'il 


1^, 


•f 


It  is  impossible  in  minglin'  with  the  people  of  this  coast,  who  are 
descended  from  the  Germans  and  loyalists,  and  have  by  intermar- 
:,'  ^>  riagc  founded,  as  it  were,  a  new  stock  of  the  human  family,  not  to 
./'be  struck  with  their  personal  appearance.     The  men  are  the  finest 
;  -  epecimens  of  the  Nova  Scotian  race,  and  the  women  are  singularly 
handsome.     This  remaiJi  is  applicable  to  the  whole  population  of 
the  southern  shore,  includin'  Lunenberg  and  Chester;  at  the  latter 
place  the  females  are  not  to  be  surpassed  in  beauty  by  those  of  any 
part  of  the  world  that  I  have  ever  seen.     Even  Jack  said  ''  We 
I  have  handsome  galls  in  our  colonies,  Sir,  their  eyes  are  enpugh  to 
make  you  wink."  '■U-[:*-'-7y-p<:;-^-      .  .r ■  ■-'.■^:  -  u , ;  v.r 

After  saunterin'  a  little  about  among  the  crowd,  T  ente^reS  a  small 
.  tavern  to  light  my  cigar,  and  took  a  seat  at  the  window  to  regard 
this  movin'  scene.  If  there  is  a  thing  I  like,  it  is  to  see  folks  en- 
joyin'  themselves.  In  all  ages  there  have  been  feasts  as  well  as 
fasts  in  the  world,  and  we  wouldn't  have  had  so  many  senses,  and  so 
much  relish  for  pleasure  if  it  was  wrong  to  apply  them  to  their  iiat- 
eral  uses.  If  the  duty  of  life  was  to  call  out  "Woe,  woe,"  evcr- 
lastiuly,  I  guess  that  duty  wouldn't  have  been  rendered  so  hard  by  a 
.-if  critter  bein'  endowed  with  laughin'  faculties.  Birds  sing,  colts  race, 
fish  leap,  lambs  sport,  dogs  give  up  barkin'  and  play  roley  poley  on 
the  grass,  and  even  calves  twist  up  their  tails  like  a  slip  noose,  and 
kick  up  their  heels  while  they  can,  afore  they  get  too  stiff.  Why 
shouldn't  we  do  so  too  ?  ,  •  •  ■  v  . , •  f .;« ;    •   >n -^5f  ^ 

;,,  If  the  lily  of  the  field  has  a  beautiful  white  dress  on,  though  there 

' '"    is  nothin'  in  the  quiet  valle}"-  where  she  lives  to  admire  it  but  the 
bullfrog,  why  shouldn't  a  gall  in  the  lone  settlement  wear  one  too, 
though  there  is  so  few  to  see  it  ?     And  if  that  ugly  old  maid,  the 
sunflower,  can  hang  its  head  and  coquette  with  its  great  black  eye 
and  yellow  lashes  while  it  follows  the  sun,  who  is  so  high  above  it, 
and  does  no  more  than  smile  graciously  on  it,  why  shouldn't  one  of 
,  I  these  handsome  galls  look  up  admirin'  to  me  too,  as  much  as  to  say 
.  "  I  don't  mind  if  you  aint  a  fancy  man,  for  I  have  good  looks  enough 
,.:;>  for  both  of  us."     And  if  the  doves  bill  and  coo  and  are  happy,  why 
,      shouldn't  wc  fall  in  love  and  have  mates  too  ?     Oh  !  but  it  is  a  sin  to 
■  :?jl  dance,  and  a  sin  to  sing,  and  a  sin  to  go  to  concerts,  and  a  sin  to 
■iJ^joke,  and  a  sin  so  wear  fine  clothes,  and  there  is  a  sin  in  everythin'. 
Do  you  know  the  reason,  you  pious  old  sinner  ?     Well,  I'll  tell 
you.     You  see  a  sin  in  all  these  things,  because  your  own  heart  is 
full  of  sin.     Your  conscience  squints,  it  looks  two  ways  at  once. 
You  pretend  to  see  harm  one  way  where  it  aint,  and  yell  as  if  you 
was  a-goin  to  be  stung  by  a  snake ;  but  the  other  eye  sees  it  in  air- 
nest,  in  a  sly  corner,  and  you  don't  say  a  word,  mum's  the  order  of 
the  day  then.     LookiJt'  the  wrorKj  way  puts  people  on  the  ivroixj 
scent.      Oh!  there  is  nothin'  like  a  squintin'  conscience,  yon  may 
depend     What  do  you  lay  up  money  for,  if  you  don't  want  none 


I  i  ■ 


l-l 


A    PICNIC    AT    LA     HAIVE. 


^65 


Lst,  who  are 
y  intermar- 
iuily,  not  to 
•e  the  finest 
e  singularly 
pulation  of 
it  the  latter 
hose  of  any 
said  "We 
e  enough  to 

ered  a  small 

w  to  regard 

ee  folks  en- 

:s  as  well  as 

snses,  and  so 

to  their  nat- 

,  woe,"  ever- 

so  hard  by  a 

ig,  colts  race, 

)ley  poley  on 

ip  noose,  and 

stiff.     Why 

though  there 
•e  it  but  the 
vear  one  too, 
d  maid,  the 
!at  black  eye 
gh  above  it, 
dn't  one  of 
uch  as  to  say 
ooks  enough 
happy,  why 
it  is  a  sin  to 
and  a  sin  to 
n  every  thin'. 
Veil,  I'll  tell 
own  heart  is 
'ays  at  once, 
■ell  as  if  you 
ices  it  in  air- 
the  order  of 
n  the  wrong 
ce,  you  may 
t  want  none 


1 


of  those  things  ?  Are  you  a-goin'  to  buy  snares  for  the  devil  to 
noose  your  children  with,  you  goney  ?  Well,  that  is  a  nice  young 
man  there,  his  hair  is  brushed  down  smooth,  his  shirt  bosom  is  as 
plain  as  a  white  board  fence.  He  don't  go  to  balls,  nor  taverns,  nor 
tandem  clubs,  nor  to  messes,  but  attends  high  teas  at  Dorcas  meet- 
ings, and  gives  tracts  to  starvin'  people  with  famishin'  children — a 
model  young  man.     Why  don't  you  let  him  marry  your  daughter? 

"  My  daughter,  Louisa  ?" 

"  Yes,  your  Louisa." 

"What,  that  fellow?" 

"  Oh  !  no,  not  that  fellow,  but  that  pious  excellent  young  man." 

"  Why,  he  is  as  mean  as  Job's  turkey,  and  as  poor  as  a  church- 
mouse,  that  has  nothin'  but  hymn-books  to  feed  on." 

"  Oh !  then  gold  is  good  ?" 

"  Good  !  to  be  sure  it  is  !     You  can't  get  on  without  it." 

"Yes  !  but  all  the  enjoyment  that  gold  buys  is  wicked,  so  where 
is  the  good  of  it,  but  to  make  an  image  of  it  to  worship  ? 

"  You  old  sinner  the  devil  tempts  you  to  hoard  up  for  the  fun 
of  temptin'  your  children  to  squander;  for  he  has  a  delight  in  takin' 
a  rise  out  of  such  fellows  as  you  be.  I  see  how  the  game  will  eend. 
He  will  bag  the  whole  brood  of  you  some  of  these  fine  days,  body 
and  soul.  Yes,  yes  !  lolien  the  fox  turns  preacher ^  the  geese  had 
letter  not  go  to  night  meetins. 

"  Yes,  enjoy  yourselves,  my  pretty  girls,  and  when  you  begin  to 
dance,  I'll  astonish  your  weak  narves  with  the  last  Paris  touch, 
won't  I,  Lucy  Randall?" 

"  W^hy,  Mr.  Slick,  is  that  you?" 

"  Yes,  Miss,  what's  left  of  me,  at  least."  I  always  say  that  to 
fish  for  what  I  always  get. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Slick,  I  never  saw  you  look  better  in  my  life." 

It  sounds  good  to  an  old  bachelor  like  me,  especially  now  as  I 
want  to  persuade  myself  I  do  for  Sophy's  sake. 

"  But,  Lucy,"  sais  I,  a-whisperin'  to  her,  and  I  returned  the  com- 
pliment, for  galls  like  to  hear  it  too.  They  know  how  handsome 
they  be  as  well  as  you  do,  but  they  aint  so  sure  the  men  think  so. 

"Oh,"  said  she,  "Mr.  Slick,  now  you're  a-takin'  me  off." 

And  away  she  ran,  but  not  before  she  had  promised  to  dance  the^ 
next  set  with  me.  Is  there  any  harm  in  that,  old  cock-your-mouth  ? 
How  did  you  court  your  wife  ?  The  whites  of  the  eyes,  when  turned 
up  the  way  you  do,  aint  very  enticin'.  You  must  have  listened  to 
the  insinivation  of  the  devil  then,  and  tried  to  look  killin',  or  courted 
as  cats  do,  by  starlight.  But  what  are  all  the  folks  lookin'  at,  etarin* 
down  the  road  that  way  ?  Why,  as  I'm  a  livin'  sinner,  that  fellow 
is  a  show,  that's  a  factj.  He  was  a  tall  bony  man,  with  a  slight  stoop 
in  his  shoulders.  He  wore  a  Kossuth  hat  of  the  largest  kind,  orna- 
mented with  a  silver  buckle  in  front  as  big  as  a  curtain-band,  a  blue 
23 


'  ttfJt/fKmS^ 


m 


266 


A    PICNIC    AT    LA     HAIVE. 


y 


u 


frock-coat,  lined  throughout  with  fine  black  silk  velvet,  a  satin  waist- 
coat,  covered  with  gold  chains,  and  loose  white  drill  trowsers,  gathered 
in  at  the  waist  in  large  plaits,  and  surmounted  by  a  red  sash ;  but 
the  most  remarkable  thing  about  him  was  his  beard,  which  extended 
nearly  to  his  waist.  He  walked  slowly  through  the  crowd,  accosted 
people  as  familiarly  as  if  he  had  known  them  all  his  life,  and  flou- 
rished a  large  gold-headed  cane.  His  eyes  were  small,  black,  rest- 
less, and  piercin'.  I  saw  as  he  came  near  the  house,  that  he  was  a 
Yankee,  and  I  felt  streaked  enough  I  tell  you,  for  it  is  such  fellers 
as  that,  that  lowers  our  great  nation,  and  are  taken  as  specimens  of 
Yankees,  and  not  as  exceptions.  I  drew  back  from  the  winder,  for 
I  didn't  want  him  to  see  me.  Blushin'  for  others  is  the  next  thing 
to  takirU  a  Icickin'  for  them.  It  aint  pleasant.  Uut  there  was  no 
escape  —  in  he  came. 

"  Mr.  Slick,  I  presume  ?"  said  he.  "  I  heerd  you  was  here,  Sir, 
and  I  called  to  pay  my  respects  to  you.  I  am  Mr.  Phinny,"  said 
he,  "  of  Springfield,  jMassachusetts.  Perhaps  you  recollect  the  trip 
wo  had  down  the  Sound  in  the  steamer,  when  the  sailors>  paid  off 
from  the  frigate  to  Bostin  harbour,  were  on  board,  and  wanted  to 
lynch  their  oificers,  who  happened  to  be  there.  I  am  in  the  danger- 
type  line,"  he  said,  "  here,  and  was  a-showin'  them  my  advertise- 
ment," touching  his  beard,  eyein'  his  dress,  and  slyly  winkin'  at  me. 
"  Will  you  be  on  board  to-night?" 

"  Yes,"  sais  I. 

"  Then  I'll  call  and  see  you  there.  I  must  return  now,  and  go  to 
work.  I  shall  make  a  good  thing  of  it  here  to-day.  Simple  people 
these.  Critters  that  can  eat  sourcrout  can  swaller  anythin'.  Good 
mornin'." 

And  he  returned  as  he  came,  followed  by  every  eye. 

"  Who  is  that  ?"  was  the  general  inquiry. 

"  The  man  who  takes  your  pictur,"  was  the  ready  answer. 

His  object  was  gained.  He  was  notorious.  His  fame  was  spread 
far  and  near.     I  was  glad  to  be  released  from  him. 

How  strange  it  is,  as  sure  as  you  aint  shaved  the  ladies  get  in  to 
see  you.  If  you  have  a  poor  dinner,  a  critter  that  is  dainty  says, 
"  I  don't  mind  if  I  go  and  take  pot-luck  with  you  to-day."  If  you 
are  among  grand  people,  a  poor  relation  dressed  in  his  poorest,  that 
has  nothin'  to  brag  of  but  you,  shoves  right  in,  and  sais,  "  Sam,  how 
are  you?  How  is  Sail?  Are  you  in  the  clock  line  yet?"  Or  if 
you  are  among  foreigners,  actin'  up  to  the  character  of  our  great 
nation,  a  critter  from  down  east,  half-trapper,  half-logger,  with  a 
touch  of  the  river-rat,  dressed  like  an  ourang-outang,  whose  mother 
made  liis  clothes  to  save  a  tailor's  bill,  cuts  in  and  takes  a  hand  in 
the  CMiiversation,  so  as  to  make  you  feel  as  small  as  the  little  end  of 
notliiii'  whittled  down  to  a  point,  while  all  the  rest  of  the  company 
are  splittin'  with  laughter  ready  to  bust.     And  shows  his  wit  by 


A 


I 


A     PICNIC     AT     LA     HAIVE. 


m 


pattin*  a  pet  Spaniel  dog  of  some  gentleman  on  the  head,  and  sud- 
denly, when  he  has  coaxed  him  to  look  up,  puttin'  his  eyes  out,  and 
half-chokin'  him  with  a  showev  of  tobacco-juice.  "  Why  don't  you 
chaw,  doggy  ?  Well,  I  want  to  know  j' '  and  then  brays  out  a  laugh 
as  loud  as  a  donkey's. 

Phinny  was  one  of  them  onexpectcd  drift-logs,  thivt  was  floatin* 
about  in  the  eddy  here,  just  where  you  didn't  want  to  see  him.  It 
disconsartcd  me ;  so  I  strolled  up  stream,  and  stretched  out  in  the 
grass  under  the  shade  of  some  spruces,  and  fell  into  a  musin'  fit. 
How  is  it  that  we  are  so  like  England  as  a  whole,  and  differ  so  in  parts, 
sais  I  to  myself.  Jack  is  a  sailor,  such  as  you  see  in  England,  but 
not  in  the  States.  Blackbeard  Phinny  is  a  travcllin'  black-leg,  such 
as  you  see  in  the  States,  but  not  in  England ;  but  so  it  is,  and  it 
aint  confined  to  those  two  specimens.  Brag  in  its  way  is  common 
to  both. 

Jack  talks  of  "  our  colonies^'  as  if  he  owned  them  all,  and  Dauger- 
type  talks  of  "  07ir  great  nation"  as  if  he  was  the  biggest  and  best 
part  of  it.  Now  we  are  two  great  nations,  that's  a  fact— the  great- 
est, by  a  long  chalk,  of  any  in  the  world — speak  the  same  language, 
have  the  same  religion,  and  our  constitution  don't  differ  no  great. 
We  ought  to  draw  closer  than  we  do.  We  are  big  enough,  equal 
enough,  and  strong  enough  not  to  be  jealous  of  each  other.  United 
we  are  more  nor  a  match  for  all  the  other  nations  put  together,  and 
can  defy  their  fleets,  armies,  and  millions.  Single,  we  couldn't  stand 
against  all,  and  if  one  was  to  fall,  where  would  the  other  be  ?  Mournin' 
over  the  grave  that  covers  a  relative  whose  place  can  never  be  filled. 
It  is  authors  of  silly  books,  editors  of  silly  papers,  and  demagogues 
of  silly  parties  that  help  to  estrange  r.s.  I  wish  there  was  a  gibbet 
high  enough  and  strong  enough  to  hang  up  all  these  enemies  of 
mankind  on. 

I  have  studied  both  nations,  and  love  them  both ;  and  after  addin' 
all  that  is  to  be  counted  on  one  side,  and  subtractin'  all  that  is  to  be 
deducted  on  the  other,  I  aint  candidly  and  fairly  sartified  which  is 
the  greatest  of  the  two  nations.  But,  on  the  whole,  I  think  we  are, 
take  it  altogether.  The  sum  may  be  stated  in  this  way  :  England 
is  great  in  wealth,  in  population,  in  larnin',  in  energy,  in  manufac- 
tories, and  in  her  possessions ;  but  then  her  weakness  is  in  her  size. 
I  knew  a  man  onct  who  was  so  tall  he  didn't  know  when  his  feet 
was  cold,  they  were  so  far  from  his  heart.  That  is  the  case  with 
England  and  her  distant  colonies.  She  don't  know  the  state  of 
fcelin'  there,  and  sore  spots  are  allowed  to  mortify  until  amputation 
is  necessary.  Giants  aint  formidable  folks  in  a  general  way.  Their 
joints  are  loose,  their  bodies  are  too  heavy,  their  motions  unwieldy 
— they  knock  their  heads  agin  doors,  and  can't  stow  away  their  legs 
in  coaches  or  under  tables,  their  backs  aint  fit  for  daily  work,  and 


m 


itt'/'^. 


mm 


268 


A     P  I  0  N  I  C     AT     LA     II  A  I  V  E .       |^ 


light-built  fellers  can  dance  round  them,  and  insult  them,  without 
danger  of  bcin' caught.  </      , 

Now  foreign  post-essions,  like  full-grown  children,  arc  expensive. 
In  time  of  peace,  colonies  help  trade ;  but  in  time  of  war,  how  are 
they  to  be  defended  ?  There  miiU  he  incorjwratlon  or  separation — 
united  you  stand,  divided  you  fall.  Now  we  have  our  country,  as 
father  used  to  say  of  his  farm,  all  in  a  ring-fence.  Every  climate  at 
home.  We  raise  the  northern  pine  and  the  southern  sugar-cane, 
the  potato  and  the  pine-apple,  the  grape  and  the  winter  fruit,  bear- 
skins and  cotton.  We  have  two  oceans,  and  the  coast  on  each  is 
easily  defended.  Rivers,  lakes,  canals,  railways,  and  telegraphs 
intersect  and  connect  the  whole.  We  can  supply  ourselves  with 
evcrythin'  we  want — wo  have  a  world  of  our  own.  John  Bull  him- 
self wouldn't  deny  this.  If  we  aint  greater  than  England,  we  are 
as  great;  if  we  don't  grow  faster,  we  grow  as  fast.  We  have  nothin' 
to  envy,  and  Englishmen  are  on  too  good  tarms  with  themselves  to 
envy  any  one.  Our  duty  and  our  interest  is  to  unite  as  one,  and 
humanize,  Christianize,  and  civilize  the  whole  world. 

But  J.  forget  all  about  Lucy  Ilandall.  I  must  go  and  look  for 
her. 

"  Oh,  Lucy  !"  sais  I,  "  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you.  When  do  you 
intend  to  stop  growin'  ?" 

•'  Me  !"  said  she.  "  Why  I  am  twenty-two  years  old,  I  have  done 
growin'  these  six  years  past.     Why,  what  a  strange  question." 

"  Growin'  handsome,"  sais  T.  "  Every  time  I  see  you  the  hand- 
somer you  grow." 

"Oh !  now,  Mr.  Slick,"  she  said,  "you  are  takin'  me  off." 

"No,  Lucy,"  sais  I,  "  I  aint  the  lucky  man  that  is  to  take  you  off, 
it's  somebody  else." 

She  coloured  up,  and  said  hastily  :  "  Who  told  you  that  ?" 

The  fact  is  her  own  blushes  told  me  I  hadn't  guessed  far  wrong, 
as  plain  as  any  thin'. 

"  Oh  !  never  mind,"  sais  I,  "I  can  keep  a  secret;  is  it  so?" 

"  People  say  so,"  she  said.  "  Have  you  been  married  since  you 
was  here,  Mr.  Slick  ?"         _ 

"  Sit  down  here,  and  I  will  tell  you,"  sais  I.  "  The  fact  is  I  have 
been  too  busy  to  think  of  it,  but  now  I  am  agoin'  to  settle  down; 
and  if  I  could  find  a  young  lady  that  wouldn't  object  to  a  man  who 
bad  been  a  clockmaker,  and  is  a  Yankee-doodle  in  the  bargain,  I 
think  I  would  knock  under,  and  ask  for  marcy ;  but  they  are  easier 
talked  of  than  found." 

Now  what  I  am  goift'  to  set  down.  Squire,  is  a  fact,  but  I  know 
you  will  put  it  all  to  the  credit  of  my  vanity,  and  say  it's  one  of  ray 
boasts,  for  you  are  always  a  sayin'  that  I  consait  people  admire  me 
and  my  books  and  all  that,  more  nor  any  one  else  does ;  but  it's  no 
such  a  thing,  it's  my  knowledge  of  human  natur'  that  enables  me  to 


<9-^?^'/'. '. 


A    PICNIC    AT     LA     HAIVE. 


269 


m,  witboul 

expensive, 
ir,  how  aro 
Kiration — 
country,  as 
f  climate  at 
sugar-cane, 
fruit,  bear- 
on  each  13 
telegraphs 
•selves  with 
Q  Bull  him- 
and,  wc  are 
lave  nothin' 
lemsclves  to 
as  one,  and 

ind  look  for 

V^hen  do  you 

,  I  have  done 
istiou." 
ou  the  hand- 
le off." 
take  you  off, 

pd  far  wrong, 

it  so?" 
led  since  you 


I,  but  I  know 
Vs  one  of  my 
le  admire  me 
,,  but  it's  no 
Inables  me  to 


read  folks'  thoughts  like  print.  Put  me  in  a  court,  and  I'll  tell  you 
if  a  witness  is  lyin'  or  not;  show  me  a  jury,  and  I'll  tell  you  who  ig 
for  the  plaintiff,  and  who  for  the  defendant,  and  who  don't  under- 
stand a  word  that's  said.  The  face,  like  a  shop-front,  was  intended 
to  show  the  sort  of  wares  that's  inside.  It's  a  beautiful  study ;  and 
the  only  reason  it  aint  taught  in  schools  is,  that  boys  would  find  out 
what  fools  their  masters  be.  What  I  am  a  goin'  to  tell  you  is  a 
fact.  Lucy  just  gave  me  a  sort  of  absent  look,  her  eyes  was  on  me, 
but  she  was  a  speculatin'  on  herself;  she  said  nothin'  for  a  space, 
and  then  drew  a  long,  easy  breath,  as  much  as  to  say,  what  a  grand 
chance  that  would  be  for  me. 

"I  don't  mind  telhn'  you  Lucy,"  sais  I,  "but  don't  mention  it  to 
any  one.  I  am  safe  with  you,  seein'  you  are  agoin'  to  bo  married 
yourself." 

"  Me  !"  said  she,    "  Why  who  onder  the  sun  told  you  that  story  ?" 
"  Why  you  said  so  just  now,  yourself." 

"No  I  didn't,"  said  she.  "  I  said  people  said  so,  and  so  they  do, 
for  they  are  always  a  settin'  down  one  to  somebody  or  another.  It's 
a  pity  they  wouldn't  mind  their  own  business.  There  aint  no  truth 
in  it — I  aint  engaged.  The  way  married  folks  live  aint  no  great 
temptation  to  marry,  is  it  ?" 

"  Well,  it  aint,"  sais  I,  "  that's  a  fact.  I  feel  kind  of  skeered 
myself  when  I  turn  it  over  in  my  mind." 

"I  am  only  twenty-two,"  said  she,  "  and  have  plenty  of  time  to 
decide  on  it  yet,  don't  you  think  so  ?  What  in  the  world  is  Eunice 
Snare  coming  over  here  for?"  she  said,  with  evident  annoyance. 
"Come  let  us  go  where  the  dancers  are,  I  can't  abide  that  girl.  I- 
ncver  could  discover  what  folks  see  in  her  to  call  her  handsome.  But 
who  is  that  gentleman,  Mr.  Slick  ?" 

"  That  is  our  captain,"  sais  I.  "  He  is  as  fine  a  feller  as  ever 
lived ;  let  me  introduce  him  to  you." 

Lucy  was  puzzled.  She  didn't  want  to  leave  a  man  that  was  in 
sarch  of  a  wife,  and  still  less  less  to  leave  him  with  Eunice  Snare. 
But  she  was  pleased  with  her  new  acquaintance,  and  accepted  him 
as  a  partner  for  the  dance.  Oh,  Lucy  !  sais  I  to  myself,  you  are  a 
little  bit  of  a  jilt,  you  know  you  are.  And  Sam,  sais  I,  did  you  ever 
see  a  miller  a  hoverin'  round  a  candle  ?  he  is  apt  to  get  his  wings 
singed  afore  he  is  done,  aint  he  ?  What  would  Sophy  say,  if  she 
was  here  ? 

"  How  are  you,  Mr.  Slick  ?"  said  Peter  Fink,  a  goney,  who  lived 
to  Bridge-Port,  at  Upper  La  Halve.    "  I  am  glad  to  see  you.    You're 
just  the  man  I  wanted  to  see.     How  is  times  to  California?" 
"Grand,"  sais  I. 

"  Well,  I'm  goin' there,"  sais  he.  '  •' 

"  That's  right.     It's  a  noble  place,  lots  of  gold  there ;  all  you've 
23*  ■  ■  ..■*' 


270 


A    PICNIC    AT    LA     IIAIVE.       K 


;TJV%V 


S  / 


got  to  do  is  to  And  it,"  sais  I,  "  and  you  can't  help  doin'  that,  if  you 
don't  miss  it." 

"  What  sort  of  a  place;  is  Sau  Francisco?"  •■  •<-. 

,^' Grand;  it's  only  been  burned  down  ton  times  in  five  years,  and 
now  it's  ten  times  as  largo  as  it  was  ut  fust." 

*'Hot,  aintit?" 

"  Well  no,  not  particularly,  especially  at  the  diggins.  Folks  froze 
to  death  there  this  last  winter  in  the  snow-storms,  and  them  that 
weren't  froze  died  of  starvation;  but  it  was  their  own  fault,  they 
forgot  that  gold  wouldn't  buy  food  where  there  aint  none  to  sell.  A 
sensible  man  like  you  would  make  your  fortin  there." 

"What  shalll  take  out?" 

"  Oh,  a  small  kit  will  do.  A  rifle,  a  brace  of  Colt's  revolver  pis- 
tols, and  a  bowie-knife,  is  all  you  want  for  arms.  A  pair  of  heavy 
water-proof  boots  to  keep  your  feet  dry,  a  broad-brrmmed  hat  to  keep 
your  head  cool,  a  set  of  light  fingers,  and  a  pair  of  scales  of  the 
right  sort  to  weigh  gold ;  for  sixteen  ounces  of  that  only  weighs  ten 
of  lead  at  the  diggins.  The  only  objection  i>:,  there  is  no  security 
wlierc  tfierc  is  a  Committee  of  Safety.  A  sr  is  hanged  on  sus- 
picion there  sometimes,  but  then  it's  only  biu/en-faced  fellows  that 
sufier.  Golden  locks  —  and  your  hair  is  as  yaller  as  a  carrot — will 
save  your  life  anywhere." 

"Well,"  sais  he,  "after  all  its  better  nor  farmin',  aint  it?  It's 
sickly  tho',  they  tell  me." 

"  Oh,  no !  nothin'  to  speak  of.  There  is  the  bullet-fevcr,  to  be 
sure;  but  if  you  keep  out  of  its  way  it  won't  hurt  you." 

"  But  what  do  you  think  of  Australia  ?" 

"  No  go,"  sais  I ;  "a  man  can  make  a  fortune  of  a  million  or  two 
there  in  no  time ;  but  when  he  comes  back,  if  he  goes  to  England 
(which  he  would  in  course,  for  no  man  with  such  a  lot  of  money  as 
that  would  come  back  to  La  Ilaive),  folks  button  up  their  pockets 
and  edge  off.  Judges  give  him  a  kno\7in'  wink,  as  if  they  bad  seen 
him  afore,  and  policemen  swear  they  knew  him  of  old  about  town; 
and  as  like  as  not  he  will  be  took  up  for  some  one  else,  for  many  a 
handsomer  fellow  than  you  bo  has  been  strung  up  before  now.  It's 
no  great  credit  to  be  a  colonist  at  any  time ;  but  Botany  Bay  !  Oh ! 
it's  the  devil !  It  aint  much  to  say  you  are  a  bishop  there,  for  folks 
laugh  and  say  the  greater  the  sinner  the  greater  the  saint.  You 
can't  even  boast  of  your  acquaintance- — no  matter  if  they  are  great 
people.  You  won't  raise  yourself  by  gayin'  you  played  cards  with 
Smith  O'Brien ;  and  by  turnin'  up  the  Knave  of  Clubs,  won  a  nug- 
get of  ore  that  was  as  heavy  as  himself,  and  he  hadn't  weight  enough 
to  stretch  a  rope ;  but  still  it  is  a  great  thing  if  you  are  invited 
among  grand  people,  and  dine  off  of  silver,  to  be  able  to  say  my 
gridiron  and  my  tea-kettle  are  gold — real  pure  gold — yellow  as  saf- 
fron, and  no  ailoy." 


¥ 


.int  it?    It's 


A     PICNIC    AT    LA     HAIVK. 


271 


"  I  see,"  Baid  Bluo-nose,  "  you  don't  think  much  of  either  of 
them.  What  locality  do  you  recommend,  for  this  is  no  place  for  a 
smart  man ;  it  was  made  of  a  Saturday  night  when  it  was  late,  and 
the  job  was  only  half  done ;  and  it  appears  to  me  all  the  ballast  of 
the  ark  was  throwcd  out  here,"  and  he  looked  pleased,  as  if  he  said 
somethin'  clever. 

" Kockyfornia,"  sais  I,  "is  the  country  for  mo.'*  '  ■■' 

"Rockyfornia !"  sais  he;  "I  never  heerd  of  it." 

"  You  wouldn't  know  it,"  sais  I,  "  if  I  was  to  tell  you,  for  you 
don't  onderstand  geography ;  it  aint  taught  in  the  school  to  Bridge- 
Port;  and  if  I  was  to  show  you  the  map,  you  wouldn't  bo  a  bit  the 
wiser.  That's  the  place  for  rich  deposits;  it  beats  Melbum  and 
Pacific  murder  fields  of  gold  all  holler." 

''  Do  tell,"  sais  he,  "  where  is  it  ?" 

"I  knew,"  said  I,  "a  party  of  men  go  there  onct,  and  afore 
twelve  o'clock  one  day  clear  two  thousand  pounds,  and  in  the  evenin* 
two  thousand  more.     What  do  you  think  of  that,  my  old  boy  ?"  i 
sais  I,  clappin'  of  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Where  was  that  ?     Do,  for  goodness  gnicious  sake,  tell  me  ?" 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  I  will  if  you  can  keep  a  secret,  for  there  aint 
but  few  people  as  knows  it.     Will  you  promise  me  ?" 

"I'll  swear  to  it,"  sais  he. 

"Oh!  then  I  won't  believe  you  at  all,"  sais  I.  "Voluniary 
oaths  aint  bindin'.  I'll  affarm;  well,  that's  an  equivocatin'  oath. 
Father  used  to  say  that  no  man  affarms,  but  a  critter  that  likes  to 
lie  his  own  way ;  he  lifts  up  his  hand,  and  sais,  *  Take  that  for  an 
oath ;  it's  an  oath  to  you,  but  it  aint  to  me,  for  I  shut  down  three 
fingers,  and  who  cares  for  the  minority?'  But,  accordin'  to  my 
opinion,  and  I  have  no  prejudices,  affarmin'  is  just  as  good  as 
swearin'  when  the  truth  aiut  a-goin'  to  be  told." 

"Well,  I'll  kiss  the  book." 

"What  in  natur'  is  the  use  in  you  kissin'  a  book  you  can't  read?" 

"Well,  on  my  honour." 

"  Honour !  what's  that  ?  An  honourable  man  pays  his  grog  debts, 
and  cheats  his  tr;idesman." 

"Well,  I  hope  I  may  die,  if  I  do." 

"  Well,  you'll  die  at  any  rate,  whether  you  do,  or  whether  you 
don't.  Even  old  Mathusalem  had  to  die  at  last;  and  it's  my  opinion 
he  must  have  been  blind,  and  deaf,  and  stupid,  like  an  old  dog, 
many  a  day  afore  he  did  go^  and  was  in  every  one's  way." 

"  Well,  what  security  can  I  give  you  ?" 

"I'll  trust  you  like  a  man,"  sais  I;  "I'll  take  you  at  your  word." 

"  Thank  you,  Sir.  Your  confidence  aint  misplaced,  I  do  assure 
you." 

"  Where  is  this  wonderful  country  ?  a  poor  despiseable  one,"  said 
1,  "  called  Nova  Scotia.     I  saw  a  thousand  barrels  of  macarel  drawn 


'I  ft  ? 

is 


272 


A    PICNIC    AT    LA    UAiVe/' 


i 


in  ono  soinc,  and  thoy  were  worth  two  pounds  a  barrel.  Now  go  to 
school,  and  learn  multiplication-table,  and  see  how  much  that  haul 
was  worth." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  ho,  "but  you  have  to  catch  them,  clean  them, 
and  bilrrcl  them,  and  then  take  them  to  market,  before  you  touch 
your  pay.  But  strike  the  pickaxe  into  the  ground,  and  out  with  a 
nugget  worth  twenty  or  thirty  pounds — aiut  that  what  wo  call  short 
metre,  to  singin'-school  V 

"Well,  it  aint  a  much  shorter  sum  than  t'other  one,"  said  I. 
"  First,  you  have  got  to  dig,  and  then  you  have  to  bale  out  the  hole, 
and  then  it  caves  in,  and  buries  the  pick-axe,  shovel,  and  basket; 
and  then  you  go  and  buy  others,  and  at  it  agin ;  and  artcr  a  while, 
ague  comes,  that  shakes  the  bedstead  down,  like  dyin'  convulsions; 
first,  it  most  roasts  you,  then  it  most  freezes  you,  and  at  last  you  hit 
the  nugget,  as  big  as  a  piece  of  chalk,  and  yoa  put  it  into  your  pack, 
buy  a  pair  of  pistols,  powder  and  ball,  and  a  long  knife,  to  defend  it, 
and  tramp  down  to  town,  walkin'  all  night,  and  wiukin'  all  day,  aud 
faintin'  almost  all  the  time ;  and  when  you  go  to  sell  it,  one-third  id 
quartz,  one-third  dirt,  and  one-third  the  real  auriferous  deposit,  scat- 
tered about  in  little  particles  of  gold,  as  big  as  currant-seeds,  in  a 
substance  called  matrix.  Instead  of  a  farm,  it  will  only  purchase  a 
night's  lodgin',  and  a  new  pair  of  shoes  to  walk  back  in.  Oh  !  go 
to  the  diggins,  by  all  means.  It  is  a  lottery,  to  be  sure ;  but  you 
may  draw  a  prize.  The  only  thing  is,  that  when  you  come  to  count 
the  cost,  you  are  apt  to  look  blank  yourself;  but  one  blank  to  a  prize 
aint  much  out  of  the  way,  as  lotteries  go." 

"Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  "do  you  think  me  a  fool,  to  talk  to  me 
that  way  ?" 

"No,"  sais  I;  "I  don't  think  so  at  all;  I  know  it." 

"Well,  thcn,'^  sais  he,  "I'll  teach  you  better  manners;"  and 
really,  them  fellers  that  have  Dutch  blood  in  them  like  fightin' 
rather  better  than  arguin' ;  and  Master  Pete  Fink  was  in  rael  airnest, 
so  he  began  to  square  off. 

Thinks  I,  Sam,  you  have  pushed  this  a  little  too  far;  and  if  you 
don't  mind  your  stops,  you'll  have  to  lick  him,  which  will  do  neither 
of  you  any  good,  and  will  lower  your  position  in  society.  So  I  stept 
back  a  little,  and  just  then  saw  old  Sorrow,  the  black  cook  and 
fiddler.  "  Ki !"  sais  I,  and  the  nigger  saw  at  once  what  I  wanted, 
and  came  double  quick.  "  Mr.  Pete,"  sais  I,  "  I  warn't  brought  up 
to  fightin'  and  wranglin' ;  as  mother  used  \jo  say, 

"  '  Little  children,  never  let 

Your  angry  passions  rise, 
Your  little  hands  were  never  meant     • 
To  tear  each  other's  eyes.'  " 

Oh !  how  ravin'  mad  that  made  him  !  lie  fairly  hopped  agin. 
Polcin'  is  toorse  than  hittin' ,  any  time  ;  no  one  can  stand  it,  hardly. 


A    PICNIC    AT    LA     II A I  V  E 


273 


"  Here  is  a  'mancipated  nigger,"  saia  I,  "  which  you  poor  dos- 
pisable  Colonists  aiiit.  Wc  look  down  upon  you,  and  so  do  the 
British :  and  you  dou't  respect  yourselves.  You  are  neither  chalk 
nor  cheese  J  but  this  coloured  gentleman  will  butt,  goudge,  fight,  or 
kick  shins  with  you,  whichever  you  please.  Sorrow,  make  this  man 
sing,  '  Oh  !  be  joyful !'  "  and  I  strolled  on,  and  left  them. 

Lucy  was  flirtin*  with  my  friend,  the  Captin ;  and  Eunice  Snare 
said  that  he  had  put  Captain  Hooft  Hoogstratcn's  nose  out  of  joint, 
and  wondered  when  ho  returned  from  the  West  Indies  what  he 
would  think  of  the  way  she  was  behavia'.  i 

"Haven't  wo  had  a  pleasant  day?"  said  she.  ""Who  do  you 
think  is  the  prettiest  girl  here ;  come  tell  me  now.  I  aint  fishin' 
for  compliments,  so  don't  say  mo  for  perliteness,  for  '  praise  to  tho 
face  is  open  disgrace,'  but  just  say  now  any  other.  Which  do  you 
think  is  the  handsomest  young  lady?" 

"  There  is  nobody  handsome,"  sais  I,  "  where  you  are,  Eunice." 

"Phoo!"  said  she,  "how  stupid  yoa  are;  are  you  as  active  as 
you  used  to  be,  Mr.  Slick,  when  you  could  jump  over  three  horses 
standin'  side  by  side  ?" 

"  Suppose  we  have  a  race."  ;;.• 

And  off  we  went  as  hard  as  we  could  clip.  I  noticed  wo  was  be- 
hind a  screen  of  spruces  that  concealed  us  from  view,  and  therefore 
didn't  mind;  and  away  we, went  up  the  windin'  road  like  wink.  At 
last  she  gave  in,  and  sat  down  on  a  windfall-log  fairly  beat  out.  Oh, 
she  panted  like  a  hunted  hare.  Well,  in  course  I  sat  down  along 
side  of  her,  and  had  to  support  her  with  my  arm,  and  her  voice  was 
almost  entirely  gone,  and  we  had  to  talk  in  signs  with  our  lips  in- 
stead of  our  voices.  It  was  a  long  time  afore  she  came  to,  and  she 
had  to  rest  her  head  on  my  shoulder,  when  "  Eunice,  Eunice,"  was 
shouted  out  as  clear  as  a  whistle.  It  gave  her  a  convulsive  fit  amost. 
Slie  pressed  me  so  close,  and  then  sprang  up  as  short  as  a  steel-trap. 

"That  is  Lucy  llandall's  voice,"  said  she,  "aint  it  provokin' ? 
Come,  let  us  return,  Mr.  Slick.  Oh,  Lucy  dear !"  said  she,  deter- 
mined to  have  the  first  word.  "  We  have  been  lookin'  for  you  every- 
where. Mr.  Slick  said  he  was  sure  he  saw  you  come  this  way;  but 
I  said,  I  thought  the  Captin  had  rowed  you  to  the  island." 

What  that  meant  I  don't  know,  but  it  disconsarted  the  young 
lady,  who  was  no  match  for  her  rival.     She  merely  said : 

"  Snares  arc  oftener  set  in  shady  places  than  in  public  thorough- 
fares." 

But  this  little  skirmish  ended  immediately,  and  tho  two  beautiful 
girls  were  on  the  best  possible  terms  with  each  other  in  less  than  no 
time.  It's  a  charmin'  thing  to  see  how  lovin'  young  ladies  aio  to 
each  other  when  men  are  by.  I  wonder  if  they  are  so  when  thej 
are  by  themselves.     After  a  hand  is  played  out  you  have  to  shuflSe 


274 


A    PIONIO    AT    LA    HAIVE. 


K 


the  cards,  cut,  chango  places,  and  take  a  new  deal ;  and  Lucy  and  I 
was  partners  again. 

'•What  do  you  think  of  Miss  Snare?"  said  she,  "Some  folks," 
(layin'  great  stress  upon  the  some,  as  if  they  were  plaguey  few) 
" aotilly  do  say  she  is  very  handsome."  '" 

*'  Well,  she  warn't  behind  the  door  when  beauty  was  given  out, 
that's  a  fact." 

"She  is  not  the  gfrl,"  said  she,  "to  be  behind  the  door  at  no 
time,"  and  she  looked  wicked.  "  The  babes  in  the  woods  lost  their 
way,  didn't  they?"  and  she  laughed  like  anythin'. 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "you  are  apt  to  lose  your  way,  and  go  round  and 
round  in  the  woods  when  yo'i  are  too  busy,  talkin*,  to  mind  turnin's. 
Supposin'  I  row  you  over  to  the  island ;  come  let's  see  what  sort  of 
a  place  that  is.  They  say  Captain  Hooft  Hoogstraten  is  goin'  to 
build  there." 

"  What  story  is  that,"  said  she,  and  she  stopt  a  minit  and  coloured 
up,  as  she  looked  inquirinly  into  my  face.  "  What  story  \8  that 
Eunice  has  been  tellin'  you  of  me  ?  I  should  like  to  hear  it,  for  I 
don't  know  what  it  means." 

"  Nord  cither,"  said  I,  "  I  only  heard  you  a  sparrin'  a  little,  and 
that's  the  jibe  she  gave  you.  You  heard  as  much  as  J  did.  When 
I  walk  with  young  ladies  I  generally  talk  to  them  of  themselves  and 
not  of  others.  I  wouldn't  let  any  one  speak  agin  you,  Lucy;  if  they 
did,  they  would  only  lower  themselves.  It's  nateral  if  she  did  foci 
kinder  jealous  of  you ;  two  splendiferous  galls,  like  you  two,  are 
like  two  candles." 

"  How  is  that  ?"  s^aid  she. 

"  Why,  one  will  light  a  whole  room  as  clear  as  day :  fetch  the 
second  in,  and  it  takes  half  the  power  of  the  other  olF  and  don't 
make  things  much  brigliter  arter  all." 

"  That's  no  reason  why  one  should  be  blowed  out,"  said  she. 

"No,  dear;  but  if  one  should  go  out  of  itself,  you  aint  left  in 
the  dark." 

"  Oh  1  that  would  scare  a  body  dreadfully,  wouldn't  it  ?"  said  she, 
and  she  larfed  as  if  the  idea  was  not  so  very  frightful  arter  all. 
^  "So  you  like  two  strings  to  your  bow,  do  you?"  she  said. 

"I  haven't  one  yet,''  said  I,  "I  wish  I  had.  Now  you  have 
three;  there  is  Mr.  Hooft  Hoogstraten,  what  a  thunderin'  hard 
hame  he  has  got." 

"  Neither  he  nor  his  name  is  anytbin'  to  me,"  and  she  spoke  with 
an  angry  air ;  but  I  went  on. 

"There  is  Hoogstraten,  or  whatever  it  is,  and  the  Captain  and 
mc ;  and  you  are  so  hard  to  please,  you  want  to  keep  us  all." 

"What  flirts  all  you  men  are,"  said  she.  "But  oh,  my  sakes! 
aint  that  tree  lovely  ?  just  one  mass  of  flowers.     Hold  me  up  please, 


A     PICNIC    AT     LA     IIAIVE, 


jucy  and  I 

me  folks," 
,guey  few) 

given  out, 

door  at  no 
Is  lost  their 

>  round  and 

[id  turnin's. 

jhat  sort  of 

is  goin'  to 

ind  coloured 
:ory  :s  that 
ear  it,  for  I 

a  little,  and 
did.  When 
mselves  and 
luey ;  if  they 
she  did  foci 
ou  two,  are 


;  i'etch  the 
and  don't 

lid  she. 
flint  left  in 

y"  said  she, 
'ul  arter  all. 

nv  you  have 
oderin'  hard 

e  spoke  with 

Captain  and 
all." 
li,  my  sakes ! 
ue  up  please, 


Oh  dear !  how 


Mr.  Slick,  till  I  get  a  branch  off  of  that  apple-tree, 
sweet  it  smells." 

Well  I  took  her  m  my  arms  and  lifted  her  up,  but  she  was  a  long 
time  a  choosin'  of  a  wreath,  and  that  one  she  put  round  my  bat,  and 
then  she  gathered  some  sprigs  for  a  nosegay.  " 

"  Don't  hold  me  bo  high,  please.  There  smell  that,  aint  it  beau- 
tiful ?     I  hope  I  aint  a  showin'  of  my  ankles." 

*'  Lucy,  how  my  heart  beats,'*  sais  I,  and  it  did  too,  it  thundered 
like  a  sledge-hammer :  I  actilly  thought  it  would  have  tore  my  waist- 
coat buttons  off.  "Don't  you  hear  it  go  bump, bump,  bump,  Lucy  ? 
I  wonder  if  it  ever  busts  like  a  biler ;  for  holdin'  such  a  gall  as  you 
be,  Lucy,  in  one's  arms  aint  safe,  it  is  as  much  as  one's — " 

"  Don't  be  silly,"  said  she,  larfin',  "  or  I"'  get  right  down  this 
minit.  No,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  hear  it  beat  j  ^  don't  believe  you've 
got  any  heart  at  all." 

"There,"  said  1,  bringin'  her  a  little  farther  forward,  "don't  you 
hear  it  now  ?     Listen." 

''No,"  said  she,  "it's  nothin*  but  your  watch  tickin',"' and  she 
larfed  like  anyiliin'  j  '•  I  thought  so." 

"  You  haven't  got  no  heart  at  all,  have  you  ?"  sais  I. 

"  It  never  has  been  tried  yet,"  said  she.  "  I  hardly  know  whether 
I  havi)  one  or  not." 

"  Oh !  then  you  don't  know  whether  it  is  in  the  right  place  or 
not." 

"'  Ye?i  it  is,"  said  she,  a  pullin'  of  my  whiskers;  "yes  it  is  just  in 
the  right  place,  just  where  it  ought  to  be,"  and  she  put  my  hand  on 
it;  "where  elst  would  you  have  it,  dear,  but  where  it  is?  But, 
hush  !"  said  she;  "I  saw  Eunice  Snare  just  now;  she  is  a  comin* 
round  the  turn  there.  Set  me  down  quick,  please.  Ain't  it  pr(>- 
vokiu'?  that  gall  fairly  harnts  me.  I  'jope  she  didn't  see  me  in 
your  arms." 

"  I'll  lift  her  up  to  the  tree  too,"  sais  I,  "  if  you  like ;  and  then — " 

"  Oh  no !"  said  she,  "  it  aint  worth  while.  I  don't  care  what  she 
Bays  or  thinks  one  snap  of  my  finger,"  and  advanein'  rapidly,  held 
out  the  nosegay,  and  presented  it  to  the  Captin. 

"  Ah !"  sais  I,  gazin'  sadly  over  her  shoulder,  "  here  comes  Sorrow."  ^ 

"  Sorrow !"  said  both  the  young  ladies  at  onct. 

"  Yes,  Sorrow,"  sais  I ;  "  don't  you  see  him  ?"  and  as  they  turned 
round,  they  both  exclaimed : 

"  Why,  it's  only  a  niggar !" 

"  Yes,  but  his  name  is  Sorrow,  and  he  is  the  bearer  of  bad  news, 
I  know." 

"  Captin,"  said  the  darkie  messenger,  "  Massa  Pilot  say,  please, 
come  on  board,  Sar ;  tide  is  all  right  fer  crossin'  de  bar,  if  der  is  de 
leastest  morsel  of  wind  in  de  world." 

"  Well  that  is  provokin' !"  said  Lucy. 


I 


■i- 1 


.-T^^m^' 


ifj 


276 


A    NAREOW    ESCAPE, 


I'  ' 


!l   •■  ' 


\ 


"Well  I  do  declare,  that  is  too  bad !"  said  Eunice.  ' 

Thinks  I  to  myself,  "  Ah,  sorrow,"  as  poor  old  Minister  used  to 
say,  and  he  was  a  book  of  poetry  himself,  he  was  full  of  wise  saws, 
"  Ah,  sorrow,  how  close  you  tread  on  the  heels  of  enjoyment !  The 
rose  has  its  thorn,  the  peach  its  worm ;  and  decay  lies  concealed  in 
the  chalice  of  the  flower.  All  earthly  things  are  doomed  to  pass 
away.  The  feast  ceases ;  the  day  expires ;  the  night  wears  out  at 
lasv;  joy  departs  when  most  enjoyed.  The  cord  snaps  in  twain, 
and  is  parted  for  ever.  Life  is  not  a  dream,  'tis  but  a  gleam.  The 
sunny  spot  of  the  morning,  is  the  shady  side  of  the  evening.  We 
have  no  abidin'  place ;  we  must  move  with  the  changing  scene,  or 
it  leaves  and  forgets  us." 

How  well  I  remember  bis  very  words,  poor  dear  old  man. 

How  mysterious  it  is,  he  used  to  say,  that  in  the  midst  of  gaiety, 
serious  thoughts  like  unbidden  guests,  should  intrude  where  they  are 
neither  expected  nor  wanted.  All  however  is  not  affected  alike. 
The  hearse  and  the  mourner  pass  unobserved  in  the  crowd,  one  con- 
tains a  dead  body  and  the  other  an  aching  heart,  while  all  around  is 
noise,  frivolity,  or  business.  Poor  old  soul,  nobody  talked  like  him 
I  do  believe.  "  Yes  it  is  a  sudden  partin',  but  it  is  better  that  is  so, 
Lucy,"  thought  I,  "for  we  haven't  had  time  to  be  quite  foolish,  and 
the  knowledge  of  that  makes  even  folly  agreeable." 


CHAPTER    XXYII. 

A    NARROW   ESCAPE. 

The  wind  came  in  slight  puffs  and  died  away,  sportin'  about  here 
and  there,  just  rufflin'  the  surface  in  places,  but  not  heavy  enough  to 
raise  a  ripple.  The  sailors  called  those  spots  cat's-paws.  It  con- 
tinuv  J  in  this  way  until  the  tide  had  ebbed  so  far  as  to  obstruct  our 
passage  over  the  bar,  and  we  were  compelled  to  remain  where  we 
were  until  the  morning.  While  walkin'  up  and  down  the  deck  with 
the  Captin,  talkin'  over  the  events  of  the  day,  we  observed  a  boat 
put  off,  and  steer  for  the  '  Black  Hawk.'  There  was  no  mistakin' 
the  man  in  the  stern ;  it  was  Phiuny,  the  daugertype-man. 

"Who  in  the  world  is  that  feller !:"'  said  the  Captin. 

"  A  countryman  of  ourn,"  I  said. 

"And  no  great  credit  to  us  either,  I  should  think,"  he  replied. 
"  It  takes  a  great  many  strange  fellows  to  make  a  world  ;  but  I  wish 
ours  would  stay  at  home,  and  not  make  us  ridiculous  abroad.  No 
sensible  man  ever  dressed  that  way,  and  no  honest  man  would  like 
to  publish  himself  a  rogue.      What  does  he  want!""' 

"  I'll  soon  find  that  out,"  said  I;  "for  tho'  I  wouldn't  care  to  be 


■er  used  to 
wise  saws, 
ent !  The 
)ncealed  in 
cd  to  pass 
3ars  out  at 
;  in  twain, 
earn.  The 
ning.  We 
g  scene,  or 

lan. 

t  of  gaiety, 
2re  they  are 
}cted  alike, 
^d,  one  con- 
11  aroupd  is 
ed  like  him 
sr  that  is  so, 
foolish,  and 


about  here 

enough  to 

s.     It  con- 

•bstruct  our 

In  where  we 

e  deck  with 

h'ved  a  boat 

0  mistakiu' 


ho  replied. 

but  I  wish 
broad.     No 

would  like 

care  to  be 


A    NARPOW    ESCAPE.  ,  277 

:  ^    ■ :  '  .  *  ■ 

seen  talkin'  to  him  ashore,  I  should  like  to  draw  him  out  now  we 
are  alone,  for  he  is  a  character.  Such  critters  look  ivell  in  a  jnciur^ 
tho'  there  in  nofhin'  to  admire  in  themselves." 

lie  handed  up  a  small  carpet-bag  and  his  gold-headed  cane,  and 
mounted  the  deck  with  surprisin'  agility.  '    J  ^:  \\       "  ' 

"  How  are  you,  gcntle-?Hew  .^"  said  he.  "  What  port  do  you  hail 
from,  Captin  ?"  And  without  waitin'  for  a  reply  went  on  rapidly 
from  one  question  to  another.  ''  Walked  into  the  Bluenoses  to-day, 
Mr.  Slick,  to  the  tune  of  four  hundred  dollars,  between  sales  of 
prints  and  daugertypes.  Can  you  set  me  ashore  bymeby,  or  shall  I 
make  this  Dytcher  wait  for  rae  ?  Fde  rather  he  should  go.  Fellows 
■who  have  no  tongues  are  often  all  eyes  and  ears, 

"  All  right,"  said  the  Captin. 

"  Now,  gentle-men,"  said  Phinny,  "suppose  we  go  below  ?"  The 
Captin  larfed  at  his  free-and-easy  manner,  but  continued  pacin'  the 
deck,  while  Mr.  Phinny  and  myself  descended  to  the  cabin. 
"  Which  is  your  state-room,  Mr.  Slick  ?"  said  he,  and  takin'  his 
carpet-bag  in  his  hand,  he  entered  and  closed  the  door  after  him. 

I  returned  to  the  deck,  and  advised  Cutler  to  swaller  his  disgust, 
and  come  and  hear  the  feller  talk.  What  was  our  astonishment  at 
tindiu'  another  person  there,  as  onliko  the  one  who  came  on  board 
as  it  was  possible  for  any  two  people  in  the  world  to  be  !  The  enor- 
mous black  beard  and  whiskers  were  gone ;  the  velvet  coat  was  ex- 
changed for  a  common  jacket;  and  the  gold  chains  and  satin  waist- 
coat were  superseded  by  a  warm,  grey,  homespun  vest. 

"Do  you  know  me  now.  Slick  r"'  said  he;  for  a  feller  that  don't 
respect  locks,  don't  mind  handles,  in  a  general  way.  "Do  you 
mind  Jaamin  Phinny,  or  Jawin'  Phinny,  as  they  used  to  call  me  ?" 

"  Y^cs,"  said  I,  with  a  strong  revoltin'  feeliu'  of  dislike,  mixed 
up  with  great  curiosity,  for  he  was  a  noted  bird  —  a  bold,  darin',  on- 
principled  feller.  * 

"  Have  you  got  anythin'  to  drink  7"  he  said. 

"Yes.     What  will  you  have?" 

"Anythin'  you  please,''  he  said;  "for  I  am  a  citizen  of  the 
whole  univarsal  United  States  world.  Drink  water  in  Maine,  cham- 
paigne  in  New  York,  cider  in"  Pennsylvania,  and  everything  in  New 
Oiieens,  from  whiskey  down  to  red-ink  —  that  they  call  claret.  I 
aint  no  ways  partikilar  :  like  'em  all  but  water,  as  I  do  the  women — 
all  but  the  old  ones.  I  say,  did  you  see  that  Snare  gall  ?  aint  she  a 
sneezer — a  regelar  ring-tailed  roarer  ?  T  have  half  a  mind  to  marry 
that  heifer,  tho'  wives  are  bothersome  critters  when  you  have  too 
nuuiy  of  them.  I  have  three  on  hand  jist  now,  and  they  talk  as 
savage  as  meat-axes  sometimes,  about  States  prison.  You  can't 
>"eform  'cm,  the  only  way  is  to  ehlo)-ifoYm.  them." 

"Oh,  Lucy!"  thinks  I,  "I  am  glad  you  are  safe,  at  any  rtite. 
But  still  I  wish  Hoogstraten  would  make  haste  back  from  the  West 
24 


\w> 


m 

I- 


"aM* 


278 


A    NARROW     ESCAPE, 


h*       ■* 


Indies ;  for  the  devil  is  among  you,  a-roamin'  aboutj  seekin'  whom 
he  may  devour.  As  for  Eunice,  she  can  take  care  of  herself:  galls 
that  romp  like  her,  know  bow  to  fend  off  better  than  gentler  ones 
like  you,  Lucy.  And,  besides,  there  are  two  things  Phinny  don't 
know  —  one  is,  that  all  natur'  has  its  instincts  for  self-preservation, 
and  xvolves  can't  allure,  tliey  only  scare  their  prey  ;  and  another  ia 
an  old  farm  saw  we  used  to  have  to  Slickville,  It  aint  the  noisiest 
cart  that's  the  easiest  upsot  always.  If  he  goes  to  handle  Eunice 
rough,  she'll  clapper-claw  his  false  beard  off  in  no  time ;  for  she  is 
as  springy  as  a  catamount.  The  country  galls  are  all  vartuous,  and 
their  arts  are  only  what's  common  to  the  sex  in  general.  Innocence 
is  alioays  unsuspicious,  and  is  apt  to  he  a  little  grain  too  free  and 
easy.  If  Phinny  mistakes  that  for  boldness,  the  Dutch  boys  will 
make  La  Halve  too  hot  for  him,  I  know." 

I  saw  Cutler  was  gittin'  impatient,  and  I  was  afraid  he  would  lose 
his  temper  with  the  feller.  He  didn't  know  what  I  do — that  there 
is  an  hypocracy  in  vice  as  well  as  religion.  It's  the  pride  of  some 
folks  —  like  Jaamin  —  to  make  you  think  they  surpass  all  in  their 
line,  as  it  is  among  others,  to  make  you  believe  they  are  saints. 
The  one  tries  to  frighten  you  into  the  road  he  wants  you  to  travel, 
and  the  dther  to  seduce  you  into  confidence.  Both  masks  are  fur- 
nished by  the  devil. 

"  I  had  no  notion,  Mr.  Phinny,"  said  I,  "  that  that  was  a  false 
beard  you  wore  !     What  is  your  object  in  wearing  it  ?" 

" Object !"  said  he,  "why  to  advertise  myself,  to  be  sure.  ^  Who 
is  that  man  with  the  beard  ?'  '  The  man  that  takes  daugertypes.' 
Folks  won't  stop  to  read  yonr  hand-hills,  but  they  must  look  at  your 
chin-hiU.  They  can't  help  it  nohow  they  can  fix  it.  And  then  there 
is  another  object :  it  aint  always  pleasant  to  be  known,  especially  if 
the  police  are  after  you ;  and  a  disguise  may  save  you  a  sore  throat 
some  day.  I'll  tell  you  how  I  got  it.  Last  year  I  was  to  New  Or- 
leens,  a  sarvin'  of  my  master  as  faithful  as  ever  any  man  did — " 

"  Your  master,"  sais  I. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  my  master,  the  devil.  Well,  one  night  I  got 
in  a'raost  an  all-fired  row.  I  never  could  keep  out  of  them  to  save 
my  life ;  they  seem  kinder  natcral  to  me.  I  guess  there  must  have 
been  a  row  in  the  house  when  I  was  born,  for  I  can't  recollect  the 
fust  I  was  in,  1  began  so  airly.  Well,  one  night  I  hccred  an  awful 
noise  in  a  gamblin'-house  there.  Everybody  was  ttvlkin'  at  ouct, 
swearin'  at  onct,  and  hittin'  at  onct.  It  sounded  so  beautiful  and 
enticin'  I  couldn't  go  by,  and  1  just  up  stairs,  and  dashed  right  into 
it  like  w:nk.  They  had  been  playiu'  fur  one  of  the  most  angelife- 
rous  slave-galls  I  ever  seed.  She  was  all  but  white,  a  plaguey  sight 
more  near  white  than  any  Spanish,  or  Portuguese,  or  Eyetalien  gall 
you  x3vor  laid  eyes  on ;  in  fact,  then^  was  uothin'  black  about  her 
but  her  hair.     A  Frenchman  owned  her,  and  now  claimed  her  back 


■ 


A    NARKOW    ESCAPE, 


279 


!;! 


on  his  single  resarved  throw.  The  gall  stood  on  a  chair  in  full  view, 
a  perfect  pictur'  of  Southern  beauty,  dressed  to  the  greatest  advan- 
tage, well  educated,  and  a  prize  fit  for  President  Tyler  to  win.  I 
worked  my  way  up  to  where  she  was,  and  sais  I :       ^     >  •    r 

" '  Are  them  your  sale  papers  ?' 

"  '  Yes,'  sais  she ;  '  all  .prepared,  except  the  blank  for  the  winner's 
name.' 

" '  Put  them  .in  your  pocket,'  sais  I,  '  dear.  Now  is  there  any  way 
to  escape  ?' 

"  *  Back  door,'  said  she,  pointin'  to  one  behind  her. 

"  'All  right,'  sais  I;  ' don't  be  skeered.  I'll  die  for  you,  but  I'll 
have  you.' 

"  The  fight  was  now  general,  every  feller  in  the  room  was  at  it, 
for  they  said  the  owner  wis  a  cheatin'  of  them.  The  French  and 
furriners  were  on  one  si<ie,  the  City  and  Iliver  boys  on  the  other  j 
and  as  the  first  was  armed,  they  was  gettin'  rather  the  better  of  it, 
when  I  ups  with  a  chair,  breaks  a  leg  of  it  off,  and  lays  about  right 
and  left,  till  I  came  to  the  owner  of  the  gall,  when  I  made  a  pass  at 
his  sword-arm,  that  brought  the  blade  out  of  it  flyin'.  I  saw  him 
feelin'  for  a  pistol  with  the  other  hand,  when  I  calls  out,  '  Quick, 
boys,  out  with  the  lights  for  your  life,  lose  no  time !'  And  as  they 
went  out,  away  he  goes  too,  neck  and  crop  out  of  the  winder,  and 
the  gall  and  I  slipt  through  the  door,  down  the  back  stairs  into  the 
street,  drove  off  home,  insa^d  my  name  in  the  blank  of  the  bill  of 
sale,  and  she  was  mine.  The  knave  of  clubs  is  a  great  card,  Slick. 
Oh  !  she  was  a  doll,  and  got  very  fond  ^f  rae;  she  stuck  as  jlose  to 
me  as  the  bark  on  a  hickory  log.  Siie  kicked  up  a  horrible  row 
when  I  sold  her  again,  most  as  bad  as  the  one  I  got  her  in ;  and  I 
must  say  I  was  sorry  to  part  with  her,  too,  but  1  wanted  the  money, 
and  she  fetched  a  large  sum." 

"  Good  Heavens  !"  said  Cutler,  "  how  dreadful !"  And  springin' 
suddenly  to  his  f'  ct,  left  the  cabin  instantly. 

Phinny  looke-a  over  his  shoulder  at  him  with  a  most  diabolical 
expression  of  cjuntenance. 

"  What  the  xevil  is  the  matter  with  that  feller '/"  said  he.  "  Have 
you  any  go'-ey-nippers  here.  Slick  ?  That  critter  reared  up  as  if  he 
was  ^ung  by  one." 

''  Perhaps  it  was  a  gallus-nippe?,"  said  I,  "that  scared  him." 

He  turned  the  same  dreadful  savage  look  on  me,  and  stared  hard ; 
but  it  would  ake  a  better  or  a  wuss  chap  than  him  to  make  me 
wink.  All  he  saw  was  a  smile,  so  at  last  he  repeated  the  words, 
"  Gallus  nipper  I"  calm  and  slowly, 

" It  may  be  ho,"  said  he.  "  Wo  are  born,  but  wo  aint  dead;  and 
you  and  I  may  be  exalted  yet  above  the  common  herd  if  we  get  our 
due."  And  he  poured  out  a  tumbler  of  raw  brandy,  and  lipt  it  oflf 
like  water,  and  proceeded  :  *'  The  way  that  Frenchman  flew  out  of 


280 


-T. ' 


A    NARROW    ESCAPE. 


f  i 


\ 


the  winder  when  the  lights 'was  put  out.  was  just  exactly  like  the 
motion  of  a  bat.  He  fell  on  the  pavement  as  a  sack  of  grain  does 
that  slips  out  of  the  slings.  It's  the  way  to  make  vegetable  marrow 
when  you're  in  a  hurry.  Throw  a  pumpkin  up  in  the  air,  and  it 
will  come  down  squash.  Well,  New  Orleens,  arter  a  while,  began 
to  get  too  hot  for  me,  for  I  never  could  keep  cool  anywhere ;  so  one 
fine  mornin'  I  found  myself  a  goin'  up  the  Mississippi  first  rate. 
When  we  arrived  opposite  Vixburg,  a  gambler  came  on  board  with 
that  very  identical  beard  on  you  saw  me  wear,  and  the  way  he  fleeced 
the  river  people  was  cautionary.  Secin'  me  there  lookin'  pretty 
stupid  drunk,  for  I  pretended  to  be  hardly  able  to  stand,  he  chal-  _ 
lenged  me  to  try  my  luck,  and  I  fairly  cleaned  him  out,  broke  him 
all  to  smash  like  a  shut-up  bank.  I  bagged  three  thousand  dollars, 
and  staggered  off  as  if  nothin'  above  partikelar  had  happened.  As 
for  him,  he  looked  like  a  feller  who,  when  it  rains  mush,  has  got  no 
spoon.  There  was  a  young  cotton-trader  on  board  at  the  time 
whose  life  I  had  saved  onct  in  a  mass  meetin'  row  about  Cuba, 
for  party  spirit  ran  high,  you  know,  at  New  Orlcens  just  then.  So 
sais  I  : 

"  'Friend,  what  do  you  think  I  had  best  do  to  avoid  that  critter? 
for  he  he  would  think  no  more  of  dirkin'  me  than  stickin'  a  suckin' 

pig  '•'  _ 

" '  Go  to  bed,'  said  he,  'and  I  will  go jpith  you,  and  we  will  con- 
coct a  plan.' 

"  No  sooner  said  than  done.  He  turned  into  the  off-side  of  a 
berth,  and  took  charge  of  my  money,  and  I  took  out  tlie  pocket- 
book,  and  folded  up  a  newspaper  and  put  in  it,  and  stowed  it  all 
away  in  my  Jiocket,  and  then  emptied  out  a  carpet-bag,  and  stuffed 
some  of  the  bed-clothes  in  it,  and  locked  it,  and  sot  down,  preteudin' 
to  be  too  screwy  to  talk  sense.  Presently  in  comes  the  gambler- 
man,  but  without  his  beard,  but  that  made  no  difference.  I  had 
watched  his  eye  too  keen  to  be  deceived,  and  he  slipt  into  the 
berth  on  the  other  side  of  the  state-room,  and  pretended  to  go  to 
sleep. 

"  'Do  come  to  bed,  Mr.  Starrat,'  said  cotton-trader  to  me  (for  we 
had  agreed  upon  a  false  name);  'give  me  your  hand,  and  I  will  try 
to  help  you  in.'  , 

"'Can't,'  sais  I;  Tra  too  drunk;  if  I  lift  my  leg  up,  I  shall 
fall,  as  sure  as  fate.  I  want  throe  legs  to-night  —  and  besides,  who 
the  devil  are  you  ?  I  won  three  tnousand  dollars  to-nigkt,  and  there 
it  is,'  takin'  out  my  pocket-book  and  slappin'  it  with  mj  hand,  '  and 
a  thousand  dollars  of  my  own  with  it  to  kecj.  it  compan}'-,  lik'^  two 
in  a  bed.' 

" '  Well,  give  it  to  me,'  said  he,  '  and  I  will  take  care  of  it  for 

you.' 


iiJSki,-. 


/  > 


A    NARROW    ESCAPE 


281 


[y  like  the 
grain  does 
le  marrow 
•xh,  and  it 
lile,  began 
re ;  so  one 

first  rate, 
board  with 
'  ho  fleeced 
jin'  pretty 
3,  he  chal-  _ 
broke  him 
md  dollars, 
lened.     As 

has  got  no 
fc  the  time 
bout  Cuba, 
I  then.     So 

bat  critter? 
i'  a  suckin* 

re  will  con- 

jff-side  of  a 
tlie  pocket- 
owed  it  all 
and  stuffed 
,  pretcudiu' 
ic  gambler- 
ce.  I  had 
)t  into  the 
d  to  go  to 

me  (for  we 
I  will  try 

up,  I  shall 

esides,  who 

and  there 

hand,  ' and 

y,  lik'^  two 

of  it  for 


" '  Yes,'  sais  I,  'friend  j  but  if  I  am  sewed  up,  I  aint  green.  The 
ftxct  is,  I  never  play  in  luck  when  I  am  sober.'  But  after  a  great 
deal  of  palaver,  sais  I,  'I'll  t«ll  you  what  I'll  do;  I'll  lock  it  up 
in  the  carpel>bag,  and  if  you  get  the  key  out  of  njy  trowscrs 
pocket  without  wakin'  me,  you  are  a  cleverer  feller  than  I  take  you 
to  be.' 

"  So  I  opens  the  bag,  rams  the  pocket-book  well  down,  and  then 
locks  all  up  safe,  and  arter  many  false  dodges,  gets  into  bed,  and  oifs 
into  a  fast  sleep  in  no  time.  About  an  hour  afore  day,  the  bell  rang, 
there  was  a  movin'  on  deck,  and  we  was  at  a  landin'-place.  Gambler 
crawls  out  o'  bed  cautiously,  and  as  silent  as  a  cut  whips  up  the 
carpet-bag,  and  oflFs  ashore  like  a  shot ;  and  away  we  went  up  stream 
agin,  puffin'  and  blowin'  as  if  the  engine  was  wrathy.  Just  at  the 
first  dawn  we  gets  out  and  goes  on  deck,  and  found,  sure  enough,  a 
man  answerin'  to  gambler,  only  he  had  no  beard,  had  gone  ashore 
with  a  travelliu'-bag  in  his  hand.     He  fell  right  into  the  trap. 

"  New  Orleens,  Slick,  is  a  better  College  for  edueatin'  and  finishin' 
a  feller  off  than  Vixburg,  arter  all.  There  are  more  professors  and 
more  science  in  it.  Well,  as  soon  as  we  touched  on  the  other  shore, 
I  lauded,  took  the  stage,  and  cut  across  the  country  to  Albany,  to 
get  out  of  the  critter's  boat,  for  he  was  a  feller  that  would  dog  you 
like  a  bloodhound.  In  his  bed  I  found  that  beard,  which  was  all 
ho  left  in  exchange  for  that  are  valuable  }»ocket-book.  If  he  was  a 
good  scholar,  I  guess  it  wouldn't  take  him  long  to  count  his  money. 
Since  then,  I  have  been  up  and  down,  and  all  through  our  great  na- 
tion ;  but  it's  gettin'  to  be  too  small  a  lot  for  me  to  feed  in  without 
bciu'  put  into  pound  as  a  stray  critter.  So  I  changed  ground  for 
new  pastures,  and  have  done  first-rate  in  these  provinces. 

"  The  daugortype  line  would  just  suit  you,  Slick.  It's  a  grand 
business  to  study  human  natur'  in.  The  greatest  shine  I  ever  cut 
was  in  Canada.  It  beat  the  rise  I  took  out  of  the  gambler  all  holler. 
I  sold  five  hundred  bishops  and  two  thousand  priests  there.  It  was 
a  lirst-rate  stroke  of  business.  I'll  tell  you  how  it  was — (this  is  super- 
superior  brandy  of  yourn.  Slick;  it's  a  sin  to  spile  it  with  water,  and 
a  man  should  never  sin  for  uothin' ;  it  makes  it  too  cheap ;  it  is  posi- 
tively a  cordial.)  I  couldn't  do  nothin'  Avith  the  French  to  Canada 
at  first.  They  were  too  careful  of  their  money.  They  wouldn't 
come  near  me,  nor  even  look  at  me.  So  what  does  I  do,  but  go  to 
the  bishop,  and  asks  him  to  do  me  the  honour  to  sit  to  me,  that  I 
might  have  a  likeness  of  him  to  present  to  my  honoured  and  re- 
spected friend,  the  Bishop  of  New  Orleens,  who  was  one  of  the  best 
men  that  ever  lived,  and  if  his  life  was  spared,  would  convart  the 
whole  city  —  which  was  greatly  needed,  for  it  was  an  awful  wicked 
place — and  begged  him  to  let  me  duplicate  it  for  himself,  as  a  mark 
of  my  veneration  for  the  head  of  the  only  true  Church,  on  the  face 
of  the  universal  airth. 
24  * 


k 


L*U 


rf^ 


282 


A    NARROW    ESCAPE. 


,r  i 


"  I  coazcd  him  into  it,  and  gave  bim  bis  copy ;  but  ho  behaved 
handsum,  and  insisted  on  payin'  for  it.  Tlic  other  I  put  into  the 
winder.  The  people  were  delighted  with  it,  and  I  multiplied  them, 
and  sold  five  hundred  at  a  great  advance  on  the  common  price  —  for 
the  last  was  in  course  always  the  only  one  left  on  band  —  and  wher- 
ever I  went,  I  gave  one  to  the  priest  of  the  parish,  and  then  he  Bot 
for  me,  and  I  sold  him  in  turn  by  the  dozens,  and  so  on  all  through 
the  piece.  A  livin'  bishop  is  worth  a  hundred  dead  saints  any  time. 
There  is  a  way  of  doin'  everythiu',  if  you  only  know  bow  to  go 
about  it.'' 

"  Mr.  Phinny,"  said  Sorrow,  who  just  then  opened  the  cabin-door, 
"  Captin  sais  boat  is  ready,  Sar." 

"Slick,"  said  Phinny,  who  understood  the  hint,  "your  skipper  is 
not  an  overly  civil  man ;  for  two  cents  I'd  chuck  him  into  the  boat, 
and  wallop  him  till  he  rowed  me  ashore  himself  I  hate  such  mealy- 
mouthed,  no-soul,  cantin'  fellers.  He  puts  me  in  mind  of  a  Captin 
I  onct  sailed  with  from  Charleston  to  Cuba.  He  used  to  call  mo  in 
to  prayers  every  night  at  nine  o'clock ;  and  when  that  was  over,  he'd 
say,  '  Come,  now,  Phinny,  let's  have  a  chat  about  the  galls.'  Broad- 
cloth chajps,  like  your  skipper,  aint  fit  for  the  fisheries,  that's  a  fact. 
He  is  out  of  place,  and  looks  ridiculous,  like  a  man  with  a  pair  of 
canvass  trowsers,  an  old  slouched  hat,  and  a  bran  new,  go-to-meetin' 
coat  on." 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this  abuse,  ho  turned  to  and  put  on 
bis.  advertisin'  dress,  as  he  called  it.  The  long  beard,  velvet-lined 
coat,  satin  waistcoat,  and  gold  chains,  were  all  in  their  old  places  j 
and  takin'  his  carpet-bag  and  heavy  cane,  he  ascended  the  deck. 

"  Is  toder  gentleman  goin',"  said  Sorrow,  "  dat  was  in  de  cabin  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  him,"  said  Phinny,  winkin'  to  me.  "  Call  him, 
that's  a  good  fellow." 

In  a  few  minutes,  the  poor  nigger  came  back,  dreadfully  fright- 
ened; bis  wool  standiu'  out  straight,  his  teeth  chatterin',  and  his 
body  tremblin'  all  over.  "  He  no  dare,  Sar.  I  sarch  ebbery  where, 
and  no  sec  him ;  and  call  ebbcrywhere,  and  he  no  answer." 

"  He  must  be  the  devil,  then,"  said  Phinny,  who  sprang  into  tho 
boat  and  pushed  off. 

Sorrow  followed  him  with  his  eyes  a  moment  or  two  in  silence, 
and  then  said,  "  By  Golly !  I  tink  you  is  de  debbil  yousef ;  for  I'll 
take  my  Bible  disposition,  I  see  two  people  down  dare  in  de  cabin. 
Oh,  dear  !  how  stupid  dis  nigger  is !  I  wish  I  had  de  sensibility  to 
look  at  his  foot.     Oh  !  he  is  de  debbil,  and  nuffin'  else." 

"  You  are  right.  Sorrow,"  said  I.  "  He  is  a  devil  that."  When 
the  poor  nigger  was  prcparin'  the  cabin  for  supper,  he  went  on  talkin' 
aloud  to  himself 

"  What  a  damnable  ting  rum  and  brandy  must  be,  when  debbils 
is  so  amasin'  fond  of  'em.     By  golly,  but  he  ab  empteed  both  hot- 


A    NARROW    ESCAPE. 


283 


ties.  He  so  used  to  fire,  he  no  mind  dat,  no  more  nor  a  backet  do 
a  drop.  What  ridikilous  onhansom  disgustin'  tings  dem  long  beards 
be  !  How  in  do  world  do  he  eat  his  soup  wid  dat  great  long  mop 
haufrin'  down  his  front,  do  way  bosses  hab  do  tails  on  behind.  Sar- 
tin  it  is  a  dcbblish  fashion  dat." 

"  That  fellow,''  said  the  Captain,  who  now  came  below,  "  may  be 
called  a  regular  devil." 

"  Ki,"  said  Sorrow.  "  Now  I  is  certain  of  do  fac,  dis  here  nigga, 
Massa,  made  do  self-same  argument  to  Massa  Slick.  But  do  i)der 
debil  in  de  carpet-bag  was  de  wusser  of  de  two.  As  I  am  a  Chris- 
tian sinner,  I  heard  him  with  my  own  blessed  ears  say,  *  Come  now, 
Funuy' — dat  is  de  name  he  gave  Massa  Slick — '  Come,  now.  Fun- 
ny,' said  he,  '  let's  go  to  prayers  fust,  and  den  talk  ob  de  galls.' 
De  onsarcurasised,  ondcgenerate,  diabolical  willains.  I  is  grad  we 
is  quit  of  'em." 

'' Supper,  Sorrow,"  said  the  Captain;  "and  when  that  is  ready, 
see  that  the  men  have  theirs.     We  are  behind  time  to-night." 
"  Sorrow,"  sais  I,  a-lookin'  serious,  ''  what's  that  behind  you  ?" 
"  Oh !  Lord  ab  massy  on  dis  nigger,"  said  he,  jumpin'  up,  and 
showin'  two  white  rings  round  his  eyes  like  a  wall-eyed  boss,    "  What 
is  it,  Massa  ?     I  is  so  awful  frightened,  I  can't  look  1" 

"  It's  only  your  own  sbadder,"  said  I.  "  Come,  move  quick  now. 
Didn't  you  hear  the  Captio  ?" 

'^I  is  most  afeerd  to  go  forrard  to-night,  dat  are  a  fac,"  he  said; 
"  but  dere  is  de  mate  now ;  he  will  be  more  wusser  frightened  still 
dan  I  be." 

"  Tell  him  the  devil  is  goin'  to  sue  him,  Sorrow,"  sais  I, 
"  Yah  !  yah  !  yah !"  was  the  reply  of  the  nigger.     "  I  go  tell  him 
de  debil  is  a  lawyer,  wid  his  constable  in  his  bag,  yah  !  yah  I  yah  1" 
and  the  laugh  composed  his  narvcs. 

In  the  mornin'  there  was  a  light  breeze  outside ;  but  we  were 
becalmed  by  the  high  lands  of  La  Halve,  and  waited  impatiently  for 
it  to  reach  us. 

"  Pilot,'^  sais  I,  "  come  and  sit  dovm  here.  "  Was  you  ever  at 
Canseau,  '^^'hcre  the  great  shore  mackerel-fishery  is  ?" 

"  Often  and  often,  8ir,"  said  he.  "  Oh  !  them's  the  Nova  Scotia 
gold-diggin's,  if  the  folks  only  knowd  it,-  at  least,  that's  my  logic. 
I'll  tell  you  how  it  is,  Sir.  To  carry  on  the  fishery,  there  must  be 
a  smooth  beach  to  draw  the  seine  on,  and  a  place  for  huts,  stores, 
hovels,  and  shops  and  so  on.  The  fishery  is  nothin'  without  the 
landin'-place,  and  the  shore  lots  of  no  value  without  the  fishery. 
The  great  thing  is  to  own  the  land ;  and  if  a  sensible  man  owned 
that,  it  would  be  a  fortin  to  him,  and  his  children  arter  him  in  all 
time  to  come.  I'll  give  you  an  idea  how  it's  worked,  and  of  the 
value  "of  the  catch  and  the  soil  too,  for  the  man  that  has  the  estate 
may  be  said  to  own  the  fishery  too.     I  only  wish  I  was  able  for  it; 


V  t'tj 


1)// 


,  J'  ■  '' 


284 


A    N  A  II  HOW    ESCAPE 


V 


but  I  aint  rich  enough  To  buy  Causcaii,  or  Fox  Island,  or  Crow  Har- 
bour, and  any  o'  them  garrison  towns  or  dockyards  of  the  mackerel. 

"  You  could  purchase  any  or  all  of  them,  Mr.  Slick,  for  you  are 
well  to  do  in  the  world,  and  are  an  onderstandin'  man,  and  could 
carry  on  the  business  in  spite  of  treaties,  men-of-war,  Bluc-noso  laws, 
and  all.  It  only  wants  a  little  study.  Laws  aint  like  fine  bait-nets, 
80  small  squids  can't  go  thro'  them,  but  they  are  open  enough  for 
hake  or  cod ;  and  bigger  fish  break  'em  to  pieces,  and  laugh  at  'em — 
that's  my  logic.  Well,  we'll  say  I  own  the  land  there;  and  it 
wouldn't  be  the  fust  lie  that  has  been  told  about  me,  if  folks  did  so. 
All  uatur  lies  hero.  The  fog  lies  along  the  coast ;  and  the  weather 
lies  so  you  can't  depend  on  it;  the  tides  get  on  a  spree  sometimes, 
and  run  up  the  gut  of  Canseau  a  whole  week  on  a  stretch,,  and  pre- 
tend to  go  up  and  down  twice  a-day ;  the  newspapers  lie  so,  the  mo- 
ment you  see  a  thing  in  'em,  put  it  down  at  once  as  false;  the  men 
lie  a-bed,  and  vow  they  are  goin'  ahead;  the  women  take  a  great 
shindy  to  your  money,  lie  like  the  devil,  and  say  it's  you  and 
not  your  pocket  they  are  in  love  with.  Everythiu'  lies  but  rates, 
and  they  come  round  when  they  promise ;  but  they  aint  above  takin' 
an  oatli  e^.ther  that  you  are  twice  as  well  off  as  you  be,  if  you  don't 
happen  to  be  on  their  side;  that's  my  logic  at  any  rate.  Well,  we'll 
say  I  own  it.  Confound  the  thing;  I  can't  get  beyond  that.  It's 
like  Ezra  Foreman's  eyes. 

"The  doctor  ordered  him  to  bathe  them  in  brandy  and  water,  but 
he  never  could  get  it  higher  than  his  mouth ;  he  was  sure  to  spill  it 
down  there.  Well  we'll  say  I  own  it,  and  that  I  follered  their 
wretched  systum  down  there.  If  so  Ide  build  a  lot  of  poor  log-huts 
twenty  feet  square,  and  let  them  to  a  crew  of  six  men  each — only 
see  what  a  rent  of  fish  that  is  ?  and  a  few  long  sheds  of  stores,  and 
let  them  enormous  high.  Well  fishin'-season  comes,  and  black, 
white,  and  grey  flock  down  to  my  land — which  is  filled  like  a  hive 
— all  makiu'  honey  for  me.  Well  then  comes  a  man  with  eight 
hands,  and  a  large  boat  with  a  seine  in  it.  When  they  see  the  fish 
strikin'  in  along  shore,  they  pay  out  one  hundred  and  fifty,  or  two 
hundred  fathom  of  seine  from  the  boat,  havin'  furst  made  one  ecnd 
of  the  net  fast  ashore.  Well  eight  men  can't  haul  such  a  seine  as 
that,  so  he  goes  to  the  shore,  and  sais  :  '  Come,  and  haul  the  net  in, 
and  then  dip  away,  like  good  fellows,  and  you  shall  have  half  of  all 
your  dip."  All  that  pays  heavy  toll  to  me.  I  actilly  saw  thirteen 
hundred  barrels  took  at  one  haul;  aij  eight  dollars  each,  that  is 
worth  two  thousand  six  hundred  pounds.  Sposin'  now,  Mr.  Slick, 
you  and  I  owned  the  place,  and  conducted  it  proper,  wouldn't  we 
beat  Australia  and  California  all  to  rags. 

"  Sposin'  we  had  our  own  people  there,  instead  of  tag-rag  and  bob- 
tail, owned  the  seines,  nets,  and  dip-scoops,  salt,  barrels,  ana  all 
that,  where  would  we  be  ?     As  it  is,  what  is  it  ?     Nothin'  but  con- 


A     N  ARROW   ,K  SCAPE, 


285 


Crow  Ilar- 
)  mackerel, 
or  yoa  are 

and  could 
-nose  laws, 
e  bait-nets, 
enough  for 
;li  at  'em — 
re;  and  it 
jlks  did  so. 
,he  weather 
sometimes, 
li,,and  pre- 
so,  the  mo- 
2j  the  men 
ike  a  great 
3  you  and 
I  but  rates, 
ibovc  takin' 
f  you  don't 
Well,  we'll 

that.     It's 

.  water,  but 

3  to  spill  it 

lered  their 

or  log-huts 

each — only 

stores,  and 

and  black, 

iko  a  hive 

with  eight 

ee  the  tish 

'ty,  or  two 

one  eend 

a  seine  as 

the  net  in, 

half  of  all 

w  thirteen 

h,  that  is 

Mr.  Slick, 

ouldn't  we 

^  and  bob- 
s,  ana  all 
but  con- 


fusion, noise  and  scramble.  Got  a  deputatiw  to  sarvo  a  writ  there, 
and  you'll  soon  find  out  what  it  is.  What  they  call  to  England  free- 
trade  and  no  protection,  but  main  strength.  If  you  and  1  owned  it, 
it  wouldn't  do  to  be  too  strict  either.  Strictness  is  a  game  two  oan 
play  at.  Gulls  and  galls  don't  go  near  them,  there  are  too  many 
guns  and  men  for  'em  together,  tho'  both  on  'em  have  watery 
mouths  when  the  season  comes.  I  knew  a  feller  there  ouct,  who 
lived  about  the  handiest  to  tho  fisheries,  that  lost  his  wife.  Well, 
he  \\ent  to  the  next  house,  and  borrowed  a  sheet  to  lay  her  out  with, 
and  bein'  short  o'  these  things,  he  buried  her  in  it.  Well,  what 
does  tho  old  woman  ho  got  it  of  do,  but  ask  him  for  the  sheet,  if 
she  had  done  with  it,  and  bothered  him  so  every  time  she  saw  hira, 
he  said  he  would  pay  her,  or  give  her  one  every  bit  as  good.  lie 
was  so  mad  at  last,  he  went  and  dug  his  wife  up,  took  her  in  his 
arms,  walked  into  the  house  one  night,  and  lay'd  her  on  the  table. 

"  Says  he,  good  woman,  I  am  obliged  to  you  for  the  loan  of  tho 
sheet,  there  it  is.  When  you  have  taken  it  off,  put  my  old  lady 
back  agin  into  the  grave,  will  you,"  and  he  left  her  there. 

If  there  warnt  a  hullaballo  there  then,  there  aint  no  cols  in 
Tusket.  That  comes  o'  bein'  too  strict.  Give  and  take,  live  and 
let  live,  that's  the  word.  You  can't  do  without  me,  for  you  hante 
got  no  pilot,  and  I  can't  do  without  you,  for  I  want  your  cash,  and 
flour,  and  pork  " 

^'  Exactly,"  sui  !  T,  "  Eldad.  Jf  there  is  no  hook  the  chain  is  no 
good  ;  hut  the  chain  is  ahuai/s  (/nnnhlin'  orjin  the  hooh,  though  all 
the  strain  is  on  it.     Every  critter  Ims  his  jilace  and  his  purpose." 

*'If  that's  the  case,"  said  he,  '*  f  should  like  to  know  what  place 
and  use  Jawin'  Phinny's  is  '/" 

"  You  oughtn't  to  ask  that,"  saii  I,  "for  you  are  a  fishorman, 
and  ought  to  kno\-  better.  What  use  is  the  shark,  tho  thrasher, 
and  sea-monsters?  There  muat  be  human  sbariis,,  thrashers,  and 
land-monsters  too.  If  a  feller  can't  be  coaxed  to  go  strait  ahead,  he 
may  be  frightened  into  it.  That  vi;  tin  would  scare  you  in'  miudin' 
your  p's  and  q's,  I  know.  We  don't  understand  those  thing  .  llicre 
are  finger-posts  to  shoioyou  the  road,  andgibUts  to  warn  you  off  the 
common,  v:hen  you  leave  the  turnjyikc.  ^('frms  make  oaks  take 
deeper  root.  Vice  makes  vartue  look  iccll  to  its  anchors.  It's  only 
allurin'  sin  that's  dangerous:'^  ScrijAur  don't  icarn  us  agin 
wolves,  except  tchen  th'_-/  uave  sheep' s-clothin'  on.  But  I  aint  a 
preacher,  and  one  man  doiv'u  make  a  congregation,  any  more  than 
one  link  makes  a  chain.  V/ell,  then  the  seine  and  in  shore  fish- 
eries," sais  I,  "  is  worth  io-i  times  as  much  as  what  we  make  ten 
times  more  out  of!" 


Slliil! 


*  Horace  was  of  liio  same  opinion : 

"  Decipit  exemplar,  vitiis  imitabile." 


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286 


A     NARROW    ESCAPE. 


"  Why,  to  bo  sure  it  is ;  but  jou  are  a  riggin'  of  me  now,  Mr. 
Slick."  ^-.f 

** It  would  take  fi  clever  feller  to  rig  you,  Eldad/'  sais  I.  "You 
are  an  understandin'  man,  and  talk  sense.  I  have  been  talkin'  to 
you  man-fashion,  strait  up  and  down,  because  I  take  you  to  be  a 
man,  that  when  you  speak  about  the  fisheries,  knows  what  you  are  a 
talkin'  about." 

"  Well,  said  he,  "  I  do,  that's  a  fact.  I  warnt  born  yesterday," 
and  he  looked  good  all  over. 

"  Squire,  you  laugh  at  me  about  this.  Now,  just  look  here.  See 
how  the  critter  swallowed  that.  It  was  a  piece  of  truth — the  rael 
thing,  and  no  soft  sawder,  but  he  liked  it,  jumped  at  it,  an*'  ^wal- 
lowed it.  I  say  again  it  was  a  fact ;  the  man  did  know  what  was 
a  talkin'  about;  but  there  was  a  hook  in  it  for  all  that,  and  I  had 
him  in  hand  like  a  trout.  Tell  you  what,  fishers  of  men,  and  that's 
a  high  vocation — such  as  parsons,  lawyers,  doctors,  politicians,  presi- 
dents, kings,  and  so  on  (I  say  nothin'  about  women,  'cause  they 
beat  'em  all) ;  but  all  these  fishers  of  men  ought  to  know  the  right 
bait  to  use.  What  the  plague  does  Lord  John  Russell  know  about 
reform  \n  colleges.  Thei'e  should  be  a  professor  of  bait  in  every  col- 
lege. It's  a  science.  His  Lordship  has  one  or  two  baits,  as  our 
coasters  have  of  smelts  and  clams.  He  has  free  trade,  extension  of 
franchise,  and  admission  of  Jews  in  Parliament,  and  has  used  'cm 
till  people  wont  bite  no  longer.  He  is  obliged  to  jig  them  as  our 
folks  do  macu/el,  when  they  wont  rise  to  the  line.  Ashley  has  the 
low  church,  and  factory  children  bait.  Morpeth  has  batht,  for  wash- 
ing coal-heavers'  faces.  Both  these  men  have  changed  their  names 
since  I  was  to  England,  and  hang  me  if  I  know  their  new  ones.  The 
English  nobility  have  as  many  alias's  as  an  Old  Bailey  convict. 
O'Connell  had  the  Irish  bait.  Hume,  the  economy;  and  Cobden 
the  Peace  Society  bait.  But  the  grand  mistake  they  all  moke  is 
this — each  feller  sticks  to  his  own,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  and 
"expects  all  sorts  and  sizes  to  take  it.  He  ought  to  know  every 
variety  of  them,  and  select  thsm  for  the  occasion,  as  a  fisherman  does 
his  flies  and  his  worms.  The  devil  is  the  only  man  of  edieation, 
and  the  only  accomplished  gentleman  in  this  line,  and  he  applies  it 
all  to  bad  purposes.  That  feller  can  tempt  all  created  critturs  to 
evil.  Why  shouldn't  we  tempt  'em  to  good  ?  You  say  this  is 
trick  ;  I  say  it's  knowledge.  You  say  it's  cunnin' ;  I  say  it's  con- 
summate skill.  You  say  it's  artifice ;  I  say  it's  high  art.  How  is 
it  that  a  super-superior  cook  has  more  pay  than  a  captain  in  the 
navy,  or  a  major  in  the  army  ?  Simply  because  he  is  master  of  bait, 
and  can  tempt  all  the  oddest  and  rarest  fish  to  your  net.  He  can 
tickle  the  palate  of  all  ranks,  from  a  nabob,  with  his  lack  of  rupees, 
down  to  a  chap  like  poor  Hook,  who  had  a  lack  of  everythin'  but 
wit.     It  aint  the  duke  who  commands  good  company  to  his  table, 


mmmmm 


A    NARROW    ESCAPE.  '    287 

for  I  know  one  that  can't  tell  sherry  from  madeira,  but  it's  hia  bait- 
master-general,  his  cook.  Ah !  Prince  Albert,  if  you  want  to  immor- 
talize yourself,  found  a  bait  professorship  at  Cambridge ;  and  if  you 
doubt'  me,  ask  Cardinal  Wiseman,  if  I  don'j  know  what  I  am  talk- 
ing about;  for  he  is  a  sensible  man,  and  up  to  snuff;  and  the  way 
he  hooked  Newman  and  a  lot  of  other  chaps,  whose  mouths  were 
bigger  than  their  eyes,  is  a  caution  to  sinners.  But  I  must  get  back 
to  Eldad  and  the  fisheries.  -  •...•'-•» 

"  Eldad,"  sais  I,  "  what  is  the  difference  between  a  Sable  Island 
bloater  and  other  macarel  V 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  said  he,  "  providin'  you  promise  me,  if  you  write 
a  book  of  your  travels,  you  will  set  it  down."    V    •  '^'-.\Z:'^. 

"Certainly,"  sais  I.  ,;     ;.:     .=  .  .    ^  v^  ^i^i^^-x 

"  Then  you  promise  me  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  do,"  sais  I.  "  "What  X  say  I  mean,  and  what  I 
mean  I  do.     That's  my  rule." 

"  Well  then,"  said  he,  "  I  will  tell  you  how  they  are  so  much 
bigger  and  fatter.  They  feed  on  the  unburied  dead  there.  Every 
storm  washes  up  drowned  bodies,  and  they  float,  for  they  are  as  soft 
as  jelly,  and  full  of  air,  and  the  macarel  eat  them,  and  grow,  and 
thrive,  as  doctors  and  lawyers  do,  who  are  fond  of  the  same  food. 
All  these  feed  on  the  dead,  and  are  fat  and  on  wholesome." 

"I  never  knew  anythin'  so  shockin',"  I  said;  "I  shall  never 
touch,  or  even  look  at  a  Sable  Island  bloater  agin  without  disgust.'' 

"I  hope  not,"  said  he,  risin'  with  much  excitement,  "nor  any 
other  human  bein'.  I  hope  that  article  is  done  for,  and  out  of 
market.  The  truth  is,  its  a  long  lane  that  has  no  turn  in  it.  The 
last  load  I  brought  from  there,  I  got  so  chiseled  in  the  sale  of  it  by 
that  outfittin'  firm  of  '  Salt  and  Sienes,'  that  I  vowed  vengeance  agin 
'em,  and  the  time  has  now  come  for  satisfaction.  When  you  print 
that  story,  see  whether  they  will  be  able  to  sell  bloaters  to  Boston 
any  more.  Honesty  is  the  best  policy ;  they  won't^ain  much  by 
havin'  cheated  me.  But,  here  is  the  breeze;  we  must  weigh 
anchor,"  and  in  a  few  minutes,  we  were  slowly  sailin'  out  of  the 
harbour.  We  had  hardly  cleared  the  river,  when  it  failed  us  again, 
and  the  vessel  lay  motionless  on  the  water.  "  Here  is  a  shoal  of 
macarel,"  said  he;  "would  you  like  to  see  how  we  manage?" 

"Well,  I  would,"  said  I,  "that's  a  fact;"  but  the  Captin  objected 
stoutly.  -'k^^^"''^ 

"  We  are  within  the  treaty  limits,"  said  he.  "  That  is  a  solemn 
compact  atween  our  governments,  and  we  ought  to  abide  by  our 
engagements." 

"Shol"  sais  I;  "who  cares  for  dead-letter  treaties!  Fish  was 
made  for  food,  and  if  the  folks  here  won't  take  'em,  why  I  see  no- 
thin'  to  prevent  us.  It  ain't  their  property ;  it's  common  stock  for 
all  the  world,  and  first  come  first  served  is  the  rule." 


iHi' 


-:if^ 


288 


A    NARROW    ESCAPE. 


r-O' 


r 


"It's  law,"  said  he,  f^and  that's  enough  for  me." 

I  didn't  tell  him  he  had  been  violatin'  law  all  along  the  coast,  by 
sellin'  things  without  enterin'  of  them  at  the  Custom  House  and 
payin'  the  duties,  for  he  warn't  used  to  it,  and  didn't  think  of 'it. 

"  Cutler,"  sais  I,  "  our  ambassador  used  to  say  there  was  two  sorts 
of  wrong — moral  wrong,  and  legal  wrong;  that  the  first  couldn't  be 
done  on  no  account,  but  legal  wrong  could,  because  it  was  more 
statute  regulation:  only  if  you  are  catched,  you  must  pay  the 
penalty." 

''  Yes,"  said  he,  "  that  is  just  on  a  par  with  political  honesty.  1 
can  have  no  hand  in  it.  I  am  little  more  than  a  passenger  here, 
engaged  by  you.  The  responsibility  rests  with  you.  If  you  think 
proper  to  fish,  do  so,  but  excuse  me."     And  ho  went  below. 

"  Well,  well,"  sais  I,  "  I'll  save  you  harmless,  let  what  will 
happen." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  boat  was  got  ready,  the  lines  fastened  to  the 
taffrail,  salt  and  cut  food  thrown  over  to  make  the  fish  rise  well  to 
the  surface,  and  we  went  at  it  in  airnest.  It's  amazin'  how  quick 
they  was  taken.  Splittin'  and  saltin'  is  done  in  no  time.  The 
splitter  h  provided  with  a  blunt-pointed  knife,  like  a  shoemaker's  in 
shape,  and  gauged  with  a  leather  thong,  so  as  to  leave  about  two 
inches  of  the  blade  exposed.  With  this,  he  splits  the  fish  down  the 
back,  from  the  nose  to  the  root  of  the  tail,  and  actilly  splits  a  hun- 
dred in  three  minutes,  or  as  fast  as  two  men  can  hand  them  to  him. 
If  he  is  a  smart  hand,  as  the  mate  was,  he  keeps  three  gibbers 
a-goin'  as  fast  as  they  can  for  their  life. 

The  gibber  covers  his  left  hand  with  a  mitten,  to  enable  him  to 
have  a  good  grip,  and  to  protect  him  agin  "the  bones  of  the  fish,  and 
with  the  forefinger  and  thumb  of  the  right  hand  extracts  the  gills 
and  garbage.  The  mackarel  is  then  thrown  into  a  tub  and  washed, 
and  arter  that,  salted  at  the  rate  of  a  bushel  of  salt  to  a  cask.  I 
had  heard  th^rocess  so  often  described,  I  knew  it  well  enough,  but 
I  never  saw  it  before;  and  I  must  say,  I  was  astonished  at  the 
rapidity  with  which  it  was  done.  - 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "Eldad,  that's  quick  work  we  are  makin'  of  it 
here,  aint  it  ?     It's  quite  excitin'  when  you  see  it  for  the  fust  time." 

He  was  then  stretched  out  at  full  length  on  the  stern,  and  was 
nearly  all  covered  over  with  a  watch-cloak ;  but  he  rose  deliberately, 
and  put  away  his  spy-glass  on  the  binnacle.  "  Yes,"  said  he,  "  and 
we  are  goin'  to  have  quick  work  made  with  us  too ;  and  I  guess  you 
will  find  that  very  excitin'  when  you  are  nabbed  for  the  first  time." 

"  How  is  that  ?"  sais  I. 

"W^ell,"  said  he,  "sit  down  here,  Sir,  with  your  back  to  the 
men,  so  as  not  to  draw  attention.  Do  you  see  that  arc  square-rigged 
vessel  that's  a  fetchin'  of  the  breeze  down  with  her,  while  we  lay 
here  like  a  log  ?    She  is  a  British  man-of-war ;  I  know  her  well ; 


coast,  by 
ouse  and 
;  of 'it. 
two  sorts 
uldn't  be 
ivas  mere 
pay  the 

nesty.     1 
iger  bore, 
you  tbink 
w. 
what  will 

ned  to  tbe 
ise  well  to 
how  quick 
me.  The 
maker's  in 
about  two 
I  down  the 
its  a  bun- 
sm  to  him. 
ee  gibbers 

ble  him  to 
e  fish,  and 
3  the  gills 
id  washed, 
I  cask.  I 
lough,  but 
led  at  the 

akin'  of  it 
■ust  time." 
Q,  and  was 
iliberately, 
he,  "an*d 
guess  you 
irst  time." 

ick  to  the 

la  re-rigged 

lile  we  lay 

her  well ; 


A    NARROW    ESOAPE. 


389 


she  is  the  *  Spitfire/  Captain  Stoker.  I  was  the  pilot  on  board  of 
her  last  summer  in  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  and  he  hates  the  Yankees 
like  pyson.  He'll  be  down  on  us  afore  we  know  where  we  be,  and 
snap  us  up  as  a  duck  does  a  June-bag." 

"Can't  we  dodge  among  the  islands?"  said  I. 
"  His  boat  will  cut  us  off."  j^     r «*:  ;> 

"Go  into  shoal  water  up  the  river?"     vv.    .  r..   ^^^►^•.i*  j  ■  :5>^"'w"l.:^: 
"Wus  and  wus !  that  way  he  is  sure  to  nab  us."  V    v.V.. 
"Well,  can't  we  show  him  our  heels?" 
"With  this  breeze  that  is  a  comin',  he  has  the  heels  of  ua." 
"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  Pilot,  this  is  a  bad  box,  and  nX)  mistake ;  but  I 
have  got  out  of  many  a  wus  fix  afore  now,  by  keepin'  a  cool  head 
and  a  steady  hand.     Face  him ;  don't  let  him  run  arter  us.     Let  us 
give  him  chase. 

"  I'll  bother  him,  see  if  I  don't.  He  won't  know  what  to  make 
of  that  bold  move.  It  will  take  him  all  aback,  wus  than  a  shift  of 
wind." 

"  I'll  tell  you  now,  though  I  never  mentioned  it  afore,  and  don't 
want  it  spoke  of  to  anybody.  I  am  an  officer  of  high  rank  in  our 
Government,  and  have  my  commission  with  me.  Let  him  touch  us 
if  he  dare.  Put  her  about ;  the  breeze  is  here  now,  and  beat  up  to 
him."  The  order  was  executed  in  a  moment.  "  Mate,"  sais  I,  "do 
you  see  that  are  vessel  there  ?  "  ,    ,; 

"Well,  she  is  a  man-of-war.  There  is  a  warrant  out  arter  us. 
Clear  up  the  deck  and  swab  it  as  dry  as  a  bone." 

"  We  shall  be  sued,"  said  he,  "  had  up  in  the  Admiralty,  and 
smashed  in  costs.  I  know'd  that  would  be  the  eend  of  it,  all 
along." 

"Go  forward,  you  coward,"  said  I,  "immediately,  and  do  your 
work,  or  I'll  appoint  another  officer  in  your  place.  This  is  no  time 
for  drivellin',  you  blockhead.  Send  the  second  mate  here.  Mr. 
Bent,"  said  I,  "  where  can  we  hide  these  wet  lines  ?  " 

"  I  can  stow  them  away,"  said  he,  "  in  the  studdin'-sail." 

"Exactly,"  sais  I.  " Do  it  at  once.  Get  the  fish-barrels  headed 
in  and  loaded  with  ballast-stones,  ready  for  sinkin',  and  make  all 
clean  and  snug." 

"Aye,  aye,  Sir."      —  -  •  -''   i"     ■'  '* 

"  Eldad,  beat  the  schooner  so  as  to  lose  all  you  get  amost.  All 
we  want  is  to  gain  time." 

I  then  went  below,  and  explained  all  to  the  Captin.  He  began 
immediately  to  protest  against  resistance,  as  we  were  unlawfully  em- 
ployed; when  I  said,  "Cutler,  I  will  take  all  responsibility;  I  must 
assume  command  here  for  a  little  while;"  and  I  went  to  the  desk, 
took  out  the  case  containin'  my  commission,  letters,  &c.,  and  said, 
"Read  them  over.  Now,  Eldad,"  sais  I,  as  I  returned,  dressed  up 
25 


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mifm 


290 


A    NARROW    ESCAPE. 


\ 


in  my  embassy  official  coat,  "  explain  to  me  the  navigation.     Is  that 
all  open,  bold,  plain-sailin'  between  that  island  and  the  main  ?  " 

"  No,  Sir,  there  is  a  long  shoal  sand-bar,  stretchin'  off  to  the  nor'- 
west.  I  guess  it  was  onct  high  land.  The  channel  is  between  that 
and  the  shore." 

"  Jist  so.  How  is  it  about  the  islands  ?  " 
"Deep  enough  for  a  seventy-fbur."  v^fNJ**c  -;S^*^?  -Sf^'^ 
"Exactly,"  sais  I.  "I  have  two  courses  before  me:  to  entice 
him  on  to  that  bar  and  then  slip  thro'  the  islands,  and  dodge  him 
and  his  guns,  or  to  hail  him,  and  go  on  board  boldly.  But  I  p.-efer 
the  first,  for  therfe  is  more  fun  in  it.  Don't  go  one  inch  beyond  the 
bar,  but  beat  between  that  and  the  island,  it  will  make  him  think 
the  channel  is  there ;  and  if  his  pilot  is  a  Bay-of-Fundy  man,  I 
know  they  aint  much  acquainted  with  this  part  of  the  South  coast. 
Is  all  right,  Mr.  Bent?" 

"  All  right.  Sir."  ^^:C<%>.-r;>-:^    -^..  v.  :-\^:,^^'-f^-'Cff^^M 

"  See  the  decks  are  covered  over  with  some  of  the  house-sand  we 

took  in  at  Petite  Riviere ;  it  will  absorb  any  moisture  left  by  the 

swabs ;  and  when  I  pass  the  word,  let  it  be  swept  off.     Mate,  hoist 

the  peniant,  and  place  the  flag  where  a  commodore's  ought  to  be." 

"  He  is  nearing  us  fast,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  the  pilot.  -kj*.  ,'fvW 

"Yes;  but  it  is  time  she  sheered  off  to  the  left,  aint  it?"  sais  1, 

"  Well,  it  is,"  said  he.     "  'Bout  ship,  there.     Hold  up  well  for 

the  passage  between  the  islands,  there,  now." 

"  Pilot,"  sais  I,  "  if  he  clears  the  bar,  lay  the  '  Black  Hawk'  to, 
and  I'll  board  him,  show  him  my  commission,  and  advise  him  to  be 
,  cautious  how  he  interferes  with  our  fishin'  crafts,  unless  he  wants  to 
bring  on  a  war ;  talk  big  in  a  soft  way,  and  all  that.  If  I  don't 
conflustrigate  him,  it's  a  pity,  that's  all.  Mr.  Bent,  get  the  gig 
ready;  see  the  davits  are  all  clear;  and  do  you  and  four  picked 
hands  stand  by  to  jump  in  at  onct.  We  must  lead  off  fust  in  this 
(,  game,  if  wo  want  to  win.     Move  quick." 

"  Aye,  aye,  Sir."  .    -  *W~^:.^v.^ j;^  .;[^.;^^^, 

"  Eldad !  Yellow  Jack  is  a  trump  card ;  aint  he  ?  "    ^I'^c  ■-''"*>  -' 

"  Guess  he  io,"  said  he.  "  But  your  father  spoiled  a  good  Captin 
in  the  navy,  to  make  a  wooden  clockmaker  of  you,  that's  a  fact." 

"  This  is  an  awkward  scra;/e,  and  there  is  no  two  ways  about  it. 
But  what  in  the  world  does  the  Britisher  mean  ?  Aint  he  got  a 
chart  on  board  ?  He'll  be  ashore  in  a  minit  as  sure  as  fate.  There 
he  is !  I  thought  so,  hard  and  fast ;  it's  a  wonder  his  masts  didn't 
go.  Ease  off  the  mainsail  a  bit — there  she  goes !  Now's  our  time, 
in  the  confusion,  for  a  run.  Lay  down  flat,  men,  in  case  he  fires. 
We  are  all  safe  now,  I  believe."     **    v  .,-,•■      ■  ■  ^^-  -•.  •  .; ■■v>   "  ^^ 

Just  as  I  spoke  the  words,  bang  went  a  gun,  and  a  shot  skipped 
by  our  stern  so  close  as  to  throw  the  spray  on  us. 

"A  miss  is  as  good  as  a  mile,"  said  Eldad.  .  ;  '...''<•   /i>;? 


A    NARROW    ESCAPE, 


291 


"  Crowd  on  all  sail  now,  my  men,  out  with  the  studdin'  sails  — 
bu  quick  there ;  steer  straight  for  that  headland,  and  that  will  keep 
tie  island  between  us  and  the  Spit^re.  Cutler,"  said  I,  and  he  was 
on  deck  in  a  minit,  "  we  are  safe  now,  and  I  surrender  my  command 
to  you." 

"  Where  is  the  man-of-war  ?  "  said  he,  lookin'  round. 

♦'  On  the  sand  bar,  on  the  other  side  of  the  island,"  I  replied. 
"  I  guess  they  are  goin'  to  grave  her,  or  perhaps  survey  the  channel, 
for  their  chart  don't  seem  no  good,"  and  I  gave  him  a  wink,  but  he 
didn't  smile. 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  *'  that  commission  puts  it  out  of  your  power 
to  act  the  boy,  and  play  tricks  that  way.  You  are  the  last  man  that 
ought  to  compromise  the  government."    -  c-  "rf^  ■,    '■  >\ 

"  Cutler,"  sais  I,  "  you  are  as  correct  as  a  Wbt-jack,  and  I  respect 
your  scruples,  I  admit  it  was  a  thoughtless  frolic,, aud  it  shan't 
happen  again."  ^  '  ■** 

"  That's  right,"  suid  he,  "  I  knew  you  were  only  doin'  of  it  out 
of  fun,  but  there  are  times  when  we  must  not  commit  ourselves. 
If  any  cruiser  interferes  with  us  in  our  lawful  pursuits,  I  will  resist 
to  the  death,  but  I  never  will  draw  blood  in  defendin'  a  wrong  act." 
Cutler  was  right;  if  we  begin  to  do  lorong  in  fun,  we  are  apt  to 
eend  hy  doin'  wrong  in  airnist. 

"  Well,  Eldad,"  said  I,  "  what  do  you  think  of  that  dodge,  eh  ? 
I  am  afeard,"  said  I,  winkin'  to  him,  for  the  mate  was  within  hear- 
in',  "  I  am  afeard  we  shall  all  be  took  up,  tried  in  court,  and  ruin- 
ated in  damages,  for  decoyin'  that  vessel  ashore."  -. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Slick!"  ho  replied,  "let  me  be,"  and  he  hung  his 
head  and  walked  forard.  "Well,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  Eldad,  "you 
are  the  man  for  my  money,  arter  all  You  taU'  the  most  sense  and 
the  most  nonsense  of  any  person  I  oversee.  You -play  with  the 
galls,  take  rises  out  of  the  men,  tell  stories  by  the  hour,  and  seem 
made  on  purpose  for  rollickin.  On  the  other  hand,  no  danger  scares 
you,  and  no  difficulty  stops  you.  No  other  man  would  have  got  out 
of  that  are  scrape  but  yourself.  Not  content  with  that,  you  have 
turned  the  tables  on  Captain  Stoker,  and  put  him  into  a  most  a 
beautiful  of  a  frizzle  of  a  fix." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  don't  say  no  more  for  goodness  gracious  sake, 
for  I  have  a  friend  who,  when  he  reads  it,  will  say  it's  all  my  vanity. 
Come,  let's  go  below  and  liquor ;  but  I  must  say  m^'self,  Eldad,  that 
was  a  reel 'warroM?  escape.' "     ;....,     ;.-  ..,  .; 


iB'^ 


'■..■■.     I: 
.....    -.,■.    ..      .  ::-f         ■    -.^ 

THE    END. 


'.  f 


^y-.  '•: 


